Payment In Kind
by criminally charmed
Summary: Someone needs the help of the Winchester Brothers. But was kidnapping Sam a smart way to do it? Or is it desperate times, desperate measures? Crossover with the Thunderbirds Movieverse. Some spoilers up to Season 4, Wishful Thinking. AU after that.
1. Chapter 1

**Payment in Kind**

**_Disclaimer - I do not own anything you may recognize from Supernatural. As this is a crossover with the Thunderbirds - movieverse, I also do not own that. However, I have written a few Thunderbird stories, included 19 interconnected stories that started not long after the movie and finished ten years (well, the last story was 25 years after the second to the last) later. In that decade, the boys married and started families. So I created an AU of sorts and this story, for the most place, will take place in that AU. The three oldest sons will still be married to the same OCs but the younger two will not yet be married and will not have children. This is a slight variation as the youngest son, in my stories, married right out of high school. The rest of the details will come in the story but this part is important to know. Sammysgirl1963 has been after me for a while to write a Supernatural story and a crossover with the story I know best seemed to work. This is how I was drawn into Supernatural. Under the Thunderbird stories, there is a great one called In At the Death. I was so intrigued by the characters of Sam and Dean that I started to read Supernatural Fan Fics. Then I rented season one from Netflix. Then I bought Season One and started watching reruns of season two (it was summer). THEN I bought season two and watched the season premire of three. I pre-purchased season three and my husband and daughter know not to bug me when "the boys" are on. I hope everyone enjoys this._**

* * *

**Chapter One**

Sam Winchester stood silently on the dock, looking at a fishing boat come about. The men had already disposed of their catch and he could hear them chatter happily about their plans for their off time, many of them anxious to get back to their families. Sam had family, the only family that had really been there for him. But Sam was reluctant to go back to the latest motel room the Brothers Winchester was calling home.

Dean. Dean was Sam's big brother. Dean had practically raised Sam. Their mother had died, murdered by the demon Azazel when Sam was six months old. Their father had tried, but as he became more and more obsessed with finding and killing Azezal, it had fallen more and more on Dean's shoulders to care for a young Sammy. It was Dean who had sheltered Sam, always putting his little brother's needs and interest first. When Sam had died, murdered, because of the evil they hunted, Dean had even sold his soul to bring his brother back to life. Once Sam had found out, he had struggled for the year Dean had left to reclaim his brother's soul and save him. Instead, Dean had been ripped to shreds by that demon-bitch, Lillith's, hell-hounds. Dean had been plunged into the pit of Hell for four months before the angel Castiel pulled him out at God's command.

And now Sam had learned that Dean had lied to him. He did recall his time in Hell. Everything. But Dean refused to talk about it. He said Sam could never understand. But Sam did. Sam had lived through four months in Hell, because that was what his life was without his brother, knowing that Dean had died to save him. And the sad part was, Dean hadn't really had to save him. Yes, Sam had died. Stabbed in the back and dying in his big brother's arms. But Sam hadn't gone to Hell. Sam didn't doubt in the existence of God and all his angels. He didn't doubt there was a Heaven. While Dean had been pulled from Hell at the will of the Almighty God himself, Sam had been pulled from Heaven by his brother's obsessive need to "look after Sammy, take care of Sammy". And just as Dean would never talk about his time in the pit in order to once more protect his baby brother, Sam would never tell Dean that the one time he had been at peace had been snatched from him by Dean's deal.

* * *

A man and a woman sat in a simple, non-descript car, watching Sam Winchester. Unlike the car, the couple would have stood out. The man was just over six feet, with chestnut brown hair and deep brown eyes. His face was strong, matching his athletic form. The woman was a few inches shy of six foot, slim and attractive, with curly jet black hair held back with a large clip at the base of her neck and eyes so dark a brown that at times they were nearly black. Both were attractive, with an air of intelligence and a look of determination on their faces. The man looked down at the file on the woman's lap.

"You sure that's him?" The woman nodded, slipping the folder marked "FBI – For Official Use Only" under her seat.

"Samuel Andrew Winchester, age 25, son of Mary Campbell Winchester who died in a house fire in Lawrence, Kansas on November 2nd, when her youngest son was exactly six months old. She also left behind a husband, John, an ex-marine and auto mechanic and a son, Dean Michael Winchester, who will be turning thirty soon. Reports indicate that something seemed to snap inside John Winchester at his wife's death. He came to believe something supernatural was responsible for the tragedy. A few months later, the family abruptly left Kansas - some say to escape the memories; other because they thought John was afraid that his obsessions would cause the authorities to take his sons from him."

"Grief does funny things to people, Kate." She raised an eyebrow at him before responding.

"Scott, your father built up a secret rescue organization. He has helped save thousands of people. John Winchester spent the next two decades, dragging his sons all around the country. He committed credit card fraud repeatedly and made pool hustling into an art form. His oldest son is cut from his mold. Samuel, on the other hand, has a genius level IQ and was all set to go to Stanford Law School when his brother showed up. According to friends of Sam's from Stanford, his girlfriend, one Jessica Moore, also a student at Stanford, said Sam was supposed to go retrieve their father from a "hunting trip". No indication of him doing so, but a street camera near the apartment the couple shared showed Sam returning at night a few days after he left with his brother. That same camera caught Dean whipping his car around and racing back to his brother's apartment. The same apartment that burned up a few moments later, killing Ms. Moore. Sam Winchester only lived because his brother dragged him from the burning building."

The man called Scott nodded, taking Kate's hand and running a thumb over the gold band on her left hand. With his own left hand, he tapped the steering wheel, his matching wedding ring making a small sound at each tap. "Anything on what happened to John Winchester?"

Shaking her head, Kate pulled out a slim electronic notepad. "Officially, no. Unofficially, a family answering the Winchesters' description was admitted to a hospital following an unsuccessful meeting with an eighteen wheeler. Sam was not badly injured, John had some more serious injuries including a concussion and some cracked ribs. But Dean was in a coma and not expected to make it. One doctor even surmised that he may have been injured prior to the crash but his father and brother denied it. Then, suddenly, Dean awakens, apparently with no lasting injuries. John, however, soon drops dead. The doctors said his heart just gave out. Scott, the man was around your father's age and had the strength and health of a man who was of an age with his own sons."

"Like Dad," Scott grinned.

Kate allowed herself a small smile before becoming serious once more. "Scott, there was no reason John should have died. But, if what some people who follow the supernatural believe is true, the man may have made a deal with a demon. His life, his very soul, and his son is miraculously healed. Healed to go on with the fight, healed to continue to protect the younger son. Keeping Dean alive would save both sons." Tapping on the screen with a stylus, she continued. "Now, at this point the information becomes even more sketchy. Dean Winchester supposedly was dead, having been killed by police months before he nearly dies in the accident. Later, he turns up in Baltimore and then he supposedly committed a bank job in the mid-west. Unofficially, he was reportedly fighting demons, ghosts and shape-shifters through all of this. Officially, who knows what the hell was going on? Two years after the man we believed to be John Winchester died of heart failure – no reports on what happened to the body, by the way – a pair answering to the brothers' description was reported at the scene of what can only be described as a blood bath in a town called ironically New Harmony, Indiana. CSI believes one of the men was killed; DNA matches Dean Winchester. Someone thought they saw an older man with a person answering Sam Winchester's description leaving with a body but most eye witness accounts of the event is discounted as being from people too traumatized to know for sure what they saw."

Scott watched the young man bow his head, the weight of the world seemingly on his shoulders. "So according to the unofficial sources, Dean is dead."

"Or he was." Allowing a humorless chuckle, Kate looked at her husband. "Some are saying Dean died, only to be brought back. Some say by God's hands, some say by evil's."

"Which do you say?"

Thoughtful, Kate watched Sam before turning back to Scott. "I don't think evil wanted Dean Winchester alive and walking the Earth. Alone, either brother is a formidable opponent. Together, they may be the greatest team of hunters ever."

Scott nodded as he unbuckled his seat belt and opened the car door. "Well, Dad always says hire the best. What do you say, hon? Let's offer the brothers the job."

As Kate pulled a small handgun from her purse and slipped it into her jacket pocket, she mimicked her husband's motions and got out of the car. Walking around the front of the car, the couple began to make their way to where Sam stood, lost in thought.

* * *

Sam raised his head and shivered in the cool ocean breeze. He needed to get back to the motel before Dean returned with their food. Turning, he nearly ran into the couple.

"Sorry," he muttered and tried to go around them.

"No problem, Sam."

Sam froze at the woman's voice, turning to look her over. She was beautiful, no doubt, with an air of intelligence and competence that he would usually find very attractive. The man beside her had the fierce, protective mode that he had always seen in his brother. But…who were they? "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

Pulling out her weapon, Kate yanked Sam closer. "Not yet. Don't worry, if I wanted you dead, you already would be. Now come with us." Seeing Sam's eyes dart around, she gave a cool smile. "No, Dean hasn't come looking for you yet Sam. But he will. In fact, I'm counting on it."

Forcing Sam into the back of the car, Kate climbed in next to him. As Scott drove off, Sam felt his cell phone in his jacket pocket. Dean would be able to track him as long as he had his cell phone with him. Moving it so it was on vibrate, Sam hoped that his captors would not realize he still had his electronic leash.

Catching her husband's eye in the review mirror, Kate suppressed a grin. Between her experience as a FBI agent and Scott's in helping to raise four younger brothers, they missed very little. They knew Sam still had his cell phone. And Kate had meant what she said. They were counting on Dean Winchester tracking down his kidnapped brother. It was essential that both Winchesters understood that this was the only way. Because without the help of the brothers, their own family's happiness was being threatened. And they would do whatever it took to protect their family.

* * *

**_A/N - this chapter was unbeta'd as my usual beta is super busy. I have asked someone else to help. I hope to post once or twice a week, and I hope my usual readers are pleasantly surprised at my early posting. But the boys were whispering in my ear and I have to do what the voices in my head tell me to. - Reviews are love, and I need love...CC_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Payment in Kind**

**_Disclaimer - See chapter one_**

**Chapter Two**

Sam woke to the sun streaming in the window. He had been brought to a small private airstrip, and, with the small gun poking at his back, herded aboard a high end jet. The man had gone up to the cockpit while the woman motioned for him to take a seat. Sam had barely strapped himself into the seat – good lord, but these seats were comfortable! – when the plane began to roll down the tarmac. Soon, they were in the air.

The trip had been made in relative silence. Several times, the woman had risen to fetch something. A book was made available, a chicken salad sandwich, a cup of green tea – which, he would discover to his annoyance, also had a sedative. Now, Sam was waking up in…an office?

And not just any office. Obviously, this was a business with no economic problems. The couch he was laid out on was of the finest leather. Sam noted wryly that someone had taken the time to place a pillow under his head and covered him with a blanket. They had even removed his jacket, hanging it over a nearby chair and his boots were neatly beside the chair. Sitting down, he pulled his boots back on as he continued to survey his surroundings.

The office was spacious, with plenty of shelves and filled with reference books. A legal office? No, the examination of the books found ones on computers, business, even some patent law but they were not what would be found in a lawyer's office. There were also some nick-knacks and framed pictures on the shelves. The couple from the dock was in several of the pictures, sometimes together, sometimes not. Moving over to the desk, Sam admired the quality of the workmanship. Solid dark cherry if he wasn't mistaken. And the dark leather chair behind the desk looked like it was designed to cushion one for long hours of work. Sighing as he sat in the comfortable chair, Sam examined the drawers. Damn. Fingerprint recognition locks. He wasn't getting in the desk any time soon. From his place behind the desk, he could now look at what was on the surface.

First to draw his eye was the additional pictures. Two accordion frames sat on either side of the desk. In one, the couple from the dock stood in full wedding regalia. The second one had the couple with two small boys. One was four or five and looked just like the man. The second looked to be maybe eighteen months. His dark curls and impish smile were charming. OK, so the Mr. and Mrs. Smith wanna-be's were married with children. So why kidnap him?

The second set of photos puzzled him even more. Two men with graying hair stood behind a very old man. The one man resembled him, maybe their father? On either side of either of the younger men was a woman. The only one he recognized as the woman from the dock. But in that picture she was much younger, twenty-one at best. Looking at the hawk-eyed man who had a protective arm around her as she clutched at the hand of the elderly man, Sam guessed that was her father. In the second picture, she stood in front of her husband, her youngest son little more than a baby and her oldest held by his father. Sam sucked in his breath as he recognized two of the men in that picture. John Tracy was an astronomer and one of his favorite authors. He was smiling in the photo, his arms around a petite blue-eyed blonde; an adorable little girl with features similar to the woman's mashed between them. The second person he recognized was none other than Jeff Tracy himself.

Jeff Tracy. If anyone could be called a living legend, it was Jefferson Grant Tracy. The man had been an astronaut. He had saved one of the missions to the moon. And then he had founded Tracy Enterprises. By all accounts, he was one of the richest men in the world. Just over a decade ago, he had packed up his family and moved to a tropical isle in the South Pacific. Looking more closely at dock-guy, Sam could see the resemblance. There was one other guy, who looked like both of them. He stood in the picture with a pretty red-head and a small boy. Maybe she was related to the other red-headed guy…no, wait – that was Olympic Swimmer Gordon Tracy! Damn! The athlete was there with his arm around a slim blonde boy, who was maybe twenty. Maybe. The blonde was holding hands with a pretty Asian girl.

Sam knew from accounts that Jeff Tracy and his late wife – some kind of accident, years ago – had five sons. One was a test pilot who had been a decorated Air Force officer; one was an astronomer and author, John Tracy; a third son was…some kind of artist. The fourth son was Gordon Tracy and the fifth…what was it about the last one? But seeing the resemblance between John Tracy and the blonde young man, Sam was sure he was seeing the youngest Tracy son, the one who had yet to really make a name for himself.

At the sound of the door opening, Sam leapt to his feet. An older woman with salt-and-pepper hair entered. "Hello, I'm glad to see you are awake. Kate was afraid she had slipped you too much of the sedative." She began to fold up the blanket and carried it with the pillow to a closet, the handle of which was virtually hidden in the oak paneling. Turning back to Sam, she smiled. "I'm Ann-Marie. I work here. Kate will be in shortly; she had to deal with a tele-conference with the Tokyo and London offices." Walking towards the desk, Ann-Marie moved to Sam's side. She looked at the pictures, smiling at them, touching the one with the Tracys. "I can't tell you how grateful the family will be. They need help. They're good people."

"Good people don't usually kidnap strangers."

Ann-Marie chuckled. "No, I guess they wouldn't. But what would Dean do to protect you? To save you? What if it was the only chance to save you, what would Dean do?"

Closing his eyes in pain, Sam opened them without looking at the woman and moved to the couch, sitting down before he allowed himself eye contact again. The pain of the year where he struggled to save Dean, the sheer agony of the four months without his brother and the distance between them since Dean's return, the pain that caused Sam, washed over him in agonizing waves. Looking Ann-Marie in the eye, Sam had to swallow twice before he could answer.

"Dean would walk through Hell for me."

* * *

_Hours earlier…_

Dean stood on the dock, the increasing wind biting into his skin. His leather coat would usually be sufficient to keep him warm. But at the moment, he thought nothing could warm him.

Less than a week ago, Dean had stood on another dock. But that time his brother had stood next to him. Dean had watched as his brother emotionally crumbled as he confessed to Sam's deepest held fears. His own anguish over what he had suffered in the pit made him needlessly cruel to Sam. But not because he didn't love his little brother. Dean needed Sam not to ask him any more about Hell. He wouldn't pull Sam into his nightmare. Dean had been willing to die to protect Sam; he had been willing to burn in the Pit for all time. Now if he could only protect Sam from the darkness he himself had been tortured by, the darkness he knew still stalked his baby brother, they had a chance.

But now…where was Sam? Where was his brother? Fingering the phone in his pocket, he pulled it out. Sam hadn't answered his repeated calls. Dean needed help.

* * *

Bobby Singer sat down in his chair, a research book pulled onto his lap. But the words were meaningless to him tonight. Bobby kept hearing Sam's shaky voice when he called last week. Picking up a picture he kept of the Winchester brothers, smiling and leaning against the Impala, Bobby found his thoughts going back to the phone call.

"_Bobby, he remembers everything."_

_The older man blinked in confusion. He had been awakened by the phone ringing at three in the morning. If it had been anyone else than one of "his boys" he would have ripped them a new one. If Sam's voice hadn't been filled with tears of anguish, Bobby still probably would have asked Sam if he could call him back later. Sitting up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Bobby tried to focus on Sam's words. "What do ya mean, Sam? Who remembers what?"_

"_Dean. He remembers being in Hell. Every moment of every day of the entire four months."_

_Closing his eyes in empathy for the brothers, Bobby tried to reach the troubled younger man. "Did he…Is he finally talking about it?"_

_A sob shook through the phone. "No. He said he won't tell me. Dean said I could never understand. Bobby, why did this have to happen? What kind of God would do this? Make Dean suffer in Hell like that, let him remember? Maybe God is punishing me; maybe Dean is still suffering because of my sins."_

_Bobby was horrified by the youngest Winchester's words. Sammy was always the kindest, gentlest of souls. Bobby knew about the demon blood. He had been there the night John Winchester had been taunted by a demon about Sammy being one of the Yellow-Eyed Demon's "special children". It had been one of the things that had caused Bobby to not talk to John for years. John had been convinced if he could keep a tight rein on his youngest, he would save the boy. But Bobby had been sure that all John would do is drive the strong-willed Sammy away. And Sam had been the one Winchester who had prayed, the only one that attended services when they visited with Pastor Jim. To be torn from his ideal of a loving God to a vengeful one, a God that blamed Sam and would punish Dean to hurt Sam? What in the name of Heaven and Hell was going on?_

"_Sammy? C'mon, kid. You can't believe that. You can't think God would do that."_

_The silence built over the line. Bobby finally broke it._

"_Is it what those ass-wipe excuse for angels said? Sam, if God wanted to punish you, he would do it directly. But I can't help but believe God has faith in you. Maybe He knew. He knew you needed Dean. And Dean risked eternal damnation because he needed you. No matter what you boys went through over the years, you always had each other." Bobby flinched at the soft sobs from Sam. "Sam, have faith in your brother. It's the one thing that has never let you down."_

_As Sam's breathing slowly returned to normal, Bobby continued. "I was gonna call you boys in the morning. Friend of mine has a haunting in Maryland. Small town, popular tourist spot in the summer, some fishing industry. Gary recently married, bought an old inn he wants to turn into a bed and breakfast. But if the violent haunting continues, he won't even be able to finish the renovations, forget open his business. I'll e-mail you the details. And I'll call ahead to Gary."_

_Sam had agreed and hung up the phone. _

Bobby was pulled from his thoughts by the phone ringing. Seeing the number that popped up on the caller ID, he smiled. Dean was probably calling to tell him that the haunting was a bust. Bobby had suspected as much. His initial research had shown no reason for any spectral activity. No unexplained or violent deaths, no reason for a haunting. But Dean and Sam needed some down time, some time away from their divine-driven quests. Bobby had hoped that the cross-country drive followed by the mundane hunt would give the Winchesters a chance to talk, maybe work a few things out. With the smile still on his face, Bobby answered the phone.

"Singer."

"Bobby, I need help."

Bobby felt his heart stop for a moment. This time it was a breathless Dean calling, panic in his voice. Something was wrong.

"Dean, what's wrong? Where's Sam?"

"I – I don't know. The hunt was a bust. Turns out your friend's new wife has a pissed off ex-boyfriend. He's a contractor and had access to the job site. He rigged some electronics. Case closed. Your friend had paid for our motel room for a week, had said it was the least he could do. Insisted we stay, take a bit of a vay-kay. I just thought, you know, maybe Sam could use it. Maybe we both did. I figured a quiet night in would be good for the kid. I went out to get some food. Sci-Fi channel was running a Star Wars marathon. I came back, there was a note. Sam said he went for a walk; he would be back before Darth captured Leia. When the Sand People jumped Luke and the kid still wasn't back, I went looking for him."

Bobby rolled his eyes. Luckily he had baby-sat the boys enough when they were younger that he knew that Sam had expected to be back in five or ten minutes and thirty or forty minutes later, he still wasn't there. He kept silent while Dean continued to ramble on.

"I asked around, Bobby. Someone saw Sam go down to the dock. It's one of those picture postcards, cutesy scenic ones. A waitress in a coffee shop was closing up. Said she saw Sam stand there for a few minutes then turned to walk back. Then he stopped to talk to a couple. She saw Sam get in their car and drive away. But Sam and the woman both got in the backseat. I think someone grabbed Sam."

Pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, Bobby tried to think. Damn, what was it about Sammy? Kid drew trouble like flies to a pile of dog crap. "OK, Dean. Calm down. Did you get a license? Vehicle description? And did you put a trace on Sam's cell? Kid should still have it."

Dean did some deep breathing. "Not yet. I guess…Damn it, Bobby. I can't lose him again." His voice calmer, he continued. "I'll call the cell phone carrier, you run the plate and vehicle. Late model Dodge Stratus, dark blue, partial plate of Alpha Romeo Sierra, followed by either two ones or two sevens, rest unknown. May be a rental."

"OK, Dean, I'll call you when I get anything."

Practically running the block left between his current position and the motel, Dean was already planning on the story he would use to track his brother's cell phone. With Bobby helping him, Dean knew he could follow through on the plan. If something supernatural had taken his baby brother, Dean would personally find the most painful method imaginable to destroy them. If it was someone human…

He would still do it.

**_A/N - yep, Dean is getting pissed. But Sam is trying to understand why the Tracys are acting like they did. And I HAD to bring in Bobby. I love that old dude. And if you are curious, the way Dean rattled off the letters in the plate - ARS - was in the phoenitic alphabet. It is not used by many American law enforcement - my brother in law would do Adam Romeo Sam - but I am ex-Air Force and that is what a military person would use. As John was an ex-marine (and Bobby is ex-Army), they would have taught the boys to do it like that. All the story alerts were very cool (I don't think I have ever had so many for a first chapter) but I adore reviews. Let me know what you think...CC_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Payment in Kind**

**Chapter Three**

**_Disclaimer - see chapter one_**

Sam would have usually enjoyed the spinach and feta cheese omelet made with egg whites. To be served a light, healthy breakfast so different from the ones he and Dean usually got from some roadside greasy spoon or fast food joint was a treat. But he had been gone from his brother's side for more than twelve hours now. Dean had to be freaking out.

_Or, _Sam thought morosely as he finished the last of the whole grain toast, _Dean is glad to be rid of his pain in the ass little brother. Maybe Dean can do some good without me. He won't have to worry about me going all dark side or some hit man angel taking me out. _

"Hello. You must be Sam." A light, airy voice pulled Sam from his self-pity. Looking up, he saw that a younger woman, maybe twenty-one, had entered the room. Going to a file cabinet built into the wall, she pulled out a file before setting her lap top on a nearby table. Leaving her work there, she crossed to the couch where Sam was slumped.

"I am Julie. Kate is still wrapped up in some work. She thought that if you were done, you might like some company."

Sam looked over the woman as she began to clear the dishes, settling them onto a trolley before moving them into the hallway. She was pretty enough. Caramel colored hair fell in a soft wave around her shoulders. Julie stood at about five feet four inches but her body was lean and athletic. Her fair skin and pale blue eyes gave her the appearance of a china doll. She looked familiar…

"Julie Maxwell." She looked up at him, puzzled. "You're Julie Maxwell. You won a gold medal at the last Olympics for swimming."

"Non." She replied in a voice that hinted at a French accent. "I won TWO medals at the last Olympics. I am no Michael Phelps, but then again I chose not to hawk anything afterwards. I am finishing up my degree at Columbia and work for the Tracys."

"And you are dating Gordon."

Julie almost dropped the lap top she had pulled from a storage closet as she whirled back around to stare at Sam. "H-how did you know? Are you really psychic?"

Sam laughed for the first time in more than a week. "No. Well, kinda. But I can't read minds." At her confused look, he took pity. "I recognized several people from the picture on the desk. Jeff, John and Gordon Tracy have all been in the news. Two of the men look like Jeff Tracy and the youngest one looks like John Tracy. He is holding the hand of a rather pretty girl and the rest of the brothers are with wives, I presume?" Julie nodded, so Sam continued. "Gordon and Jeff Tracy are the only ones stag in the picture. As I know Mrs. Tracy died some years back, I took a shot that you are hooked up with Gordon."

"I could have just been a trusted employee."

Thinking about that, Sam nodded. "Maybe. I am guessing Ann-Marie is. She looks like she has been here for a long time. Maybe even before the youngest son was born. She would have watched them grow up. I would wager the boys think of her more as a favorite aunt than a long-time employee. But less than a year ago, you were training for the Olympics. You wouldn't have been working as well. Not and be wearing that honor society pin on your lapel. So for some reason, the family trusts you. Maybe due to your relationship with the only son left unspoken for?"

Julie smiled as she handed Sam a lap top. "If it wasn't for your police record, you would make a good detective."

Sitting on a smaller couch on the opposite side of the room, Julie began to work. Sam opened up the lap top and at first just played a game of solitaire. As Julie continued to do her own work, he went on the internet. By the time Julie had pulled another trolley in – this one loaded down with fresh coffee – and had served both herself and Sam with the gourmet brew, Sam had managed to send Bobby an e-mail, telling him exactly where he was. He had tried his cell phone but had discovered he had no service in the office. But now Dean would know exactly where he was.

Smiling as she continued to work on the file in front of her, Julie checked the small window in the corner of her computer's desktop. Sam had certainly taken long enough to log into his e-mail account. Julie sent an IM to Kate in order to let her boss know that the tracking program had worked perfectly. They should plan on including Dean Winchester in the lunch order.

* * *

Dean was in the Impala, the highway burning up under his wheels. Using Sammy's cell, he had gotten the coordinates of his brother's phone and hopefully his brother himself. His own phone began to ring and he spared it a glance, praying it was Sam. Nope. Bobby. But maybe Bobby had news for him.

"Speak to me, Bobby."

"OK, Dean." Bobby ignored Dean's attitude. He knew the older Winchester had to be frantic for his baby brother's well-being. "I tracked down seven cars with a possible match of plates. One was a rental car. Now here is where it gets interesting."

"I'm glad that this has made your day, Bobby."

Ignoring that as well, Bobby continued. "Dean, the car was rented using a credit card – a corporate credit card."

"What corporation, Bobby?"

"Tracy Enterprises. And that particular card is one of a group of cards reserved for the use of the Tracy Family themselves."

Dean looked confused. "Are you saying some rich dude kidnapped my brother?"

"Some rich dude? Dean, Jeff Tracy is one of the richest men in the world. But his sons work for him as well. A daughter-in-law also. Now, that is where it may get interesting. You said the woman that Sam got into the back of the car with was on the tall side with dark hair, right?" When Dean grunted in agreement, Bobby went on. "Jeff Tracy's oldest son is married to the former Katherine Eppes. Mrs. Tracy has black hair and brown eyes, stands at five feet, ten inches. But she's also a former FBI agent, so I would be cautious around her."

"I've gotten around the Feebs before, Bobby."

"Dean, the last person who threatened a member of her family? She shot him. Blew him away in a courtroom when he tried to take her youngest brother-in-law – who he was already on trial for kidnapping – hostage. I would not underestimate the lady."

Allowing himself a small smile, Dean said his goodbyes, as he continued to drive along. Katherine Eppes Tracy sounded like she was a heck of an opponent. Good. He liked a good fight. If he had to take out some woman, he wanted her to go down fighting. The cell rang again, and he flipped it open once more.

"Yeah, Bobby, what else?"

"I just got an e-mail." Dean was about to snap at Bobby when the older man finally continued. "It's from Sam."

Dean had begun to get dizzy when he finally realized he had stopped breathing. He had to do some deep breathing before he regained his composure. "Is he OK? Did he say where he was? Wait, how the hell did the kid get to a computer? What kinds of kidnappers give their vic a chance to use the internet? Or has he escaped?"

"Nope. Says he is at Tracy Towers in the executive suites. Said to tell you not to worry, that he hasn't been hurt. In fact, said he has been fed and everything. But he suspects it may be some kind of lure for you, so that you should be careful."

"Why the hell didn't he just e-mail me?"

"Sam addressed that as well. Says he figured you tossed his laptop into his duffle bag at the hotel and never thought of checking the e-mail account." Bobby almost chuckled at the low growl that confirmed that this was exactly what had happened.

"OK, Bobby. I'm heading into New York City as we speak. I'll call you when Sam and I are all clear."

Hanging back up, Dean gunned the engine and began the struggle in earnest to make his way through the city's congestion. _I'm coming Sammy, I'm coming. And if there is one hair out of place on my little brother, those rich asses better have good medical coverage – or an undertaker on call. Cause they have gotten themselves a can of whoop ass so big that the Thunderbirds couldn't rescue them._

* * *

Katherine Eppes Tracy – wife, mother of two, business executive and former FBI agent – entered her office. After dealing with several teleconferences, Kate had spent time on a vid-phone speaking with her five and two-year-old sons, Jason and DJ. She missed her sons desperately when she was away from Tracy Island. Scott had agreed with her that amongst the family, they could oversee a satellite program for the children until they were in middle school. At that point, the children, starting with her son, Jason, would be sent to a boarding school in the states. Kate was already looking into schools near Manhattan. That way one of the Tracys could come up for business on a Friday and then spend the weekend with whatever children were attending school nearby at the apartment in the city. At least until high school. Or college.

Lost in her musings, Kate almost missed seeing Julie sitting on the smaller couch Kate herself frequently worked at. The younger woman had been taken under Kate's wing ever since she came to work for Tracy Enterprises and she treated her like a little sister. As the wife of the oldest Tracy son, Kate was viewed by the other brothers as their big sister. Their wives – or girlfriends, in Gordon and Alan's cases – saw her in the same light. At the small smile and nod given to her by Julie, Kate grinned. Julie quickly picked up her belongings and whispered that she needed to get back to campus for a test. As soon as the door had closed behind her, Kate sat down at her desk before looking over at Sam.

"So, did you get a response to your e-mail?"

Sam froze and looked guiltily at Kate. She gave a light chuckle as she continued. "The e-mail to Bobby Singer. Has he let you know if Dean is on his way?" Kate pressed a thumb to a drawer in her desk, pulled out a file and closed it back up. "According to the tracker my husband placed on the Impala, Dean parked in the public garage across the street ten minutes ago. As soon as he left, I arranged to have it towed to the private garage for Tracy Enterprises. Much more secure. I never understood an obsessive love that people can have for a car but my sister-in-law, Sarah – she's married to the middle son, Virgil – she has this car…Well, someone was shooting at her once and cracked the side mirror. If they had been in front of her at the time, I think she would have happily ripped their head off and shoved it up their...tailpipe."

Shaking his head, Sam allowed a small smile. Sarah sounded like someone his big brother would like. Too bad the woman was married. Dean was a bit of an alley cat but he kept out of other men's backyards. Looking over at Kate behind the desk, he gave a tight smirk. "Dean isn't gonna like this."

"I'm a sixth degree black belt, trained in Krav Maga and was the top shot in my graduating class at Quantico. Your brother and I would be a good match. Plus, my husband will be joining us. Scott is an ex-Air Force fighter pilot and a fourth degree black belt who excelled in his small arms training. In addition, he helped his dad raise four younger brothers. As the youngest of my own family, I can assure you – although you probably know this yourself – little brothers and sisters? We fight dirty. Scott made it this far and is still relatively sane. Between the two of us, we can handle your brother."

The phone on her desk buzzed and Kate picked it up. "Yes, Ann-Marie. That would be perfect." Hanging up, she continued to work as she talked to Sam. "Lunch will be here shortly. I ordered from _Trenia's_, I hope you don't mind." Hearing the name of the exclusive five star restaurant where the Winchesters could never even hope to eat but that had been featured on numerous television and magazine spreads, Sam hoped he wasn't drooling. He forced himself to refocus on Kate as she spoke. "I ordered their Shrimp Caesar Salads for you and I, two porterhouse steaks – medium rare – with all the trimmings for Dean and Scott, and I hope you like apple pie. Their deep dish apple pie with homemade French Vanilla ice cream is incredible." She smiled at Sam before continuing her work. "And no, it isn't to be considered a last meal. I am not sure about Dean, but Scott is much more reasonable when he has been fed."

Sam almost laughed. Dean and this guy Scott really did sound scary similar. This should be interesting.

* * *

Dean was feeling a tad more confident as he made his way up a set of back stairs. The security in this place was a joke. No wonder there had been at least one kidnapping of a member of the family if this was the precautions they took.

Slipping into the executive suites of the Tracy Tower, Dean looked around cautiously. Everyone must have gone to lunch. Quietly walking along, he found the door he was looking for. A brass plate on the door read: Katherine Tracy, VP of Computer Communication Security Division. Pulling his gun from his jacket, Dean cautiously opened the door – and froze.

"Sammy?" Sam looked up at the sound of Dean's voice. Looking over at Kate, he saw her rise from behind her desk. Pointing his weapon at the woman, he snarled, "Lady, I don't know what the hell you were thinking but nobody lays a hand on my brother." To Dean's annoyance, the dark-haired woman didn't look the least bit intimidated. Only when the voice behind him could be heard did Dean understand why.

"And nobody points a gun at my wife." Scott Tracy growled at the shorter man. Grabbing Dean by the shoulders, he shoved his head into the wall. Dean dropped his gun but came out swinging. Sam got up to help his brother when he heard a soft, "Don't." Seeing that Kate had once more pulled out her own weapon, Sam raised his hands and shrugged. Dean really did need to relieve some stress. And if duking it out with the Tracy son took care of it, all the better.

The two men were evenly matched. The fight may have gone on much longer if another voice hadn't called out, "What the blazes is going on here?"

Scott froze and Dean tried to take another swing, but with Scott's knee in his stomach that was easier said than done. Kate quickly slipped her gun back into the drawer and locked it. She moved over to the sparring partners and helped Scott up. Sam quickly did the same with his brother. Dean didn't know who the guy was but he reminded him uncomfortably of John Winchester, the military air and the voice of someone used to giving orders and having them carried out. Sam did recognize the man and tried not to smile at the guilty looks the couple had as they faced the voice of authority.

Jeff Tracy looked at his oldest son and daughter-in-law and wondered what was happening. At that moment, Ann-Marie, his secretary for more than a quarter century, entered the room. "Kate, lunch is set up in conference room A. I also ordered some Chicken Marsala for you, Jeff. I thought you might want to be in on Kate and Scott's solution for the problem in Boston." With a smile, she exited the room and Kate began the procession to the conference room. Just before she left the executive suite to go to her own lunch, Ann-Marie turned and smiled once more. "Oh, and I left some first aid supplies. I thought you might want to attend to that first. Or at least clean up. There are clean shirts in both Dean and Scott's sizes in the wash room."

As the elevator door closed behind the secretary and Kate put her hand on the door to the conference room, she turned to her father-in-law and said, "Dad, I don't know what you pay Ann-Marie, but it isn't enough."

Thinking of the quiet strength and friendship his long-time employee had shown when his beloved wife had died, plus the love she had always given his sons, Jeff smiled. No, he could never pay Ann-Marie what she was truly worth.

**_a/n - Dean has been reunited with his brother. And I am fairly sure that Jeff did not know what Kate and Scott were up to. Some of you have wondered why the Tracys needed the Winchesters. That will be in chapter four. And I write sooooo much faster with reviews. - CC_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Payment in Kind**

**_Disclaimer - see chapter one_**

**_And Before I forget - AGAIN- Thank you to my SN beta Sammygirl1963 for stepping up - and if someone doesn't like this...she made me do it!!! (Just kidding, she is the best, as so many of us know.) _**

**Chapter Four**

Dean Winchester was no fool. He tried not to look a gift horse in the mouth. And no one could say Dean didn't like his food. His eyes wanted to pop out of their sockets when he saw the repast that had been placed in front of them. Seated next to his brother, with one of the richest men in the world carefully placing himself between the son Dean kept glaring at and the angry young man trying to visually rip apart said son, Dean couldn't help but appreciate the smells rising from the plate in front of him.

"Hey, this smells better than the Mushroom Swiss Melt at Burger King," he whispered in an aside to Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes. The salad in front of him was filled with crisp lettuce and jumbo shrimp, the Romano cheese and croutons were perfect, and there was even a basket of hot (they were still hot!) slices of French bread in front of him. But leave it to his older brother to compare the meal in front of them to one at the fast food chain.

Kate nudged her husband, getting Scott to sit as she gave her father-in-law a shaky smile. She had been sure of two things – one, that in the end, Jeff would agree with her determination that, based on her research, the Winchester Brothers were the perfect people to help them with the problem. She was also sure that he would most definitely not approve with her methods of getting that help.

"Well, our meals are getting cold, or warm, in the case of the salads, so why don't we eat while I explain everything." Kate gave her best _"I swear, I know what I am doing"_ look to the room and hoped it had an effect.

For a few minutes, silverware hitting china filled the room as the men all waited for Kate to start talking. Kate waited for Scott and Dean to have food in their mouths so she was less likely to be interrupted.

"Dean, Sam, how much do you know about the Tracy family?" Kate's question took the boys by surprise, but as he lightly buttered a piece of bread, Sam answered.

"Jeff Tracy, former astronaut, was still with the space program when he met and married his wife, an art and music teacher. They married, had two sons in rapid succession, and he left the space program to found Tracy Industries. Two more sons were added to the mix and the business changed to Tracy Enterprises. By the time the fifth son came along, more than five years after the fourth son, Mr. Tracy was a millionaire several times over. When the youngest son was three, the family went on a ski vacation and there was an avalanche. Mrs. Tracy, the two oldest sons, Scott and John, as well as the baby, Alan, were caught in the disaster. Mrs. Tracy died, the three boys were rescued." Sam took a bite of his salad and carefully chewed – god, this stuff was good – as he gave the Tracys a chance to breath and his brother a chance to absorb the information he had gathered while playing on the computer in Kate's office. Swallowing, Sam continued.

"Each of the sons has an impressive list of accomplishments, but the key ones are as follows: Scott Tracy graduated with honors from Yale while serving in the Air Force Reserves. He had barely gone on active duty when the Terrorist Wars broke out and in a heroic but still fairly classified action he saved both civilian and military lives and was awarded the Medal of Honor. Scott left the military, went to work for his father, married former FBI agent Katherine Eppes and fathered two sons of his own, Jason, age five and Donald Jefferson, or DJ, age two. John Tracy graduated from Harvard with a dual degree in Astronomy and Computers, worked for NASA before also going to work for Tracy Enterprises, married Dr. Emily Haas and has a daughter, Elizabeth, age four. Virgil…"

Dean almost choked on the piece of steak he was inhaling. "Virgil? You named your poor kid Virgil? What the hell were you thinking?"

Jeff almost smiled. "Virgil use to wonder the same thing. But I named my sons for the Mercury Seven astronauts: Scott Carpenter, John Glenn, Virgil Grissom, Gordon Cooper and Alan Sheppard. There was also Walter Schirra, but I think Lucy would have had my guts for garters if I had suggested we try for a full roster."

Dean chuckled. He liked this guy. Glaring at the man's oldest son, Dean didn't even realize he was eating the asparagus until he saw Sam's amused look. Returning his attention to the steak, he listened as Sam continued.

"Virgil Tracy, although gifted in both painting and music, primarily the piano, chose to major at Princeton in Mechanical Engineering. He went directly from college to work for Tracy Enterprises. Four years ago, he married Sarah Woodbury. A former acquaintance of the Tracys from when they lived in Kansas, she was working as a paramedic firefighter in Boston when she recued a teenage boy from a hotel fire. That boy turned out to be Alan Tracy, which reunited Sarah with the family." Sam noted the tight grip each of the Tracys had on each themselves and tried to put themselves in their place. How scary must it have been to have almost lost another family member? "Virgil and Sarah now have a son, Michael, age two. Sarah works as a Physician's Assistant at the Tracy Charitable Clinic in New Zealand which is run by Dr. Emily Tracy."

"OK, that was son number two's wife, right?" Dean asked, even as Sam glared at him for talking with his mouth full.

Kate swallowed a bite of bread before answering. "Yes, glad to see you are paying attention to your brother's research. Just as I am glad to see Sam made use of the resources we gave him."

Sam quickly continued before his brother could erupt on the woman. "Gordon Tracy chose not to go to college but went straight into the WASPs, a special division of the Navy under the United Nations. He wasn't in for long when an accident in a hydrofoil killed the other members of his team and left Gordon fighting for his life. Gordon recovered and, although the doctors said he would never walk again, less than two years later he won a gold medal at the Olympics. Gordon is not married, has no children but I did get to meet his girlfriend, Julie Maxwell." Looking at his brother, he shrugged. "She works here. She has a bit of a French accent, it's kinda, well, hot."

Kate chuckled, sipping her ice tea. "Julie lived in France from when she was five to almost sixteen. When she gets upset, she has a tendency to slip into French. I recognize some of the words and trust me, they were not ones the nuns at the convent school taught her."

Dean frowned at that piece of information. Convent school? They still had those? Dean gave a silent shudder at the news.

Sam smiled at the look on his brother's face. Anything religious not used in fighting evil was suspect to his brother. And Julie was the kind of girl you married, not the one-night stands Dean was used to.

"Less is known about Alan. The youngest Tracy son set a track record while in high school for the one mile run and one in college for the long jump. He is attending Harvard, with dual majors in Engineering and English Literature. Alan publishes sci-fi short stories under the name A.S. Tracy. He is expected to graduate this spring. And while I don't know her name, I suspect he is still dating the girl in the picture in the office?"

Jeff smiled. "Tin-Tin. Alan and she have known each other since they were ten. Her parents work for me back on Tracy Island. They have been dating since they were fifteen. And I am not supposed to know this, but they are engaged."

"What?" Scott sputtered. "Dad, he is just a kid, you can't…OUCH!"

As her husband rubbed his abused leg, Kate frowned at him before addressing her father-in-law. "Dad, they are going to announce it at Christmas. Alan gave Tin-Tin Grandma Tracy's ring before she left for her semester abroad." Looking over at the Winchesters, she shrugged. "Tracys have a need to mark their territory." Ignoring the slight glare from the Tracy men, she continued. "Alan would have married Tin straight out of high school if he hadn't thought his father would have a stroke. Tin-Tin is a student at MIT but was offered a chance at the semester abroad in Japan, at the Emperors College with their robotics program."

Scott played with his glass as he looked down at the table. "Alan is the reason we need you."

The Winchesters looked intrigued. Sam took a sip of the ice tea as he looked at the Tracy family. "OK, I am going under the assumption that no demonic deals have ever been made in your family…"

Dean interrupted his brother. "Sam, you can't be sure of that. I mean, did you listen to what you rattled off? Nobody gets to be that lucky…"

"Lucky? Young man, what were you hearing?" Jeff looked outraged. "My wife was killed in a senseless accident, caused by someone using equipment they shouldn't have in a populated area. She died because there wasn't the rescue equipment available and we were lucky one or more of my boys were not killed. Scott was hurt in that military incident. John's wife had complication when his daughter was born and right now is pregnant again. We are all worried about Emily. Gordon could have died in the hydrofoil accident. If not for Sarah's courage, Alan could have been killed in that fire and later…well, he became ill a few months later, he almost died. And now, something is happening again with Alan…"

"Like what, Mr. Tracy?" Sam asked, glaring his brother into silence. Dean began to eat again – he wasn't about to let a meal like this go to waste.

Kate picked up the conversation again. "There have been a series of unexplained accidents. Like when there was a fire in his condo in Boston, with a kitchen towel catching fire on the stove."

Dean frowned. "So the kid left a towel on the stove. Big deal."

Playing with her glass, Kate shook her head. "The towel Alan had used that evening was in the laundry. He hadn't pulled another one out. And he was supposed to have the stove looked at the next day, so he had unplugged the stove. It's an electric stove. So it was a fire with a towel that had to be taken out of the pantry and with an appliance that had no power to it. Explain that."

"OK, so that is kinda weird. What else?" Sam asked.

Kate handed Sam a file. "Here are the incidents that have occurred in the last couple of months since Alan returned to Harvard in August. I arranged to have the condo next to Alan's be available for the next month. The law student is spending a month with the California Attorney General's office for that big consumer fraud case."

Jeff looked askance at his daughter-in-law. "Isn't your brother Dan the lead prosecutor on that case?"

Grinning at him, Kate shrugged. "Is he? I really didn't recall that."

Scott and Dean shook their heads in disbelief, while Sam shook his in admiration. Kate was as fiercely protective of her family as her husband. She was just more subtle.

Dean looked over at the Tracys. "OK, you kidnap my brother and now you want us to find out what supernatural power may or may not be after Alan?"

Kate smiled. "No, we appropriated Sam, treated him well and waited for you to join us. We simply wanted to stress how we are feeling. Alan…Alan is the baby of this family. He is very precious to us. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, that we would not do to protect him. Surely you can understand that Dean? What have you been willing to do to protect your brother over the years?"

Sam and Dean exchanged meaningful looks as Kate continued. "But don't think that Tracys do not pay for services rendered. We wanted the Winchester Brothers because you are the best. We are desperate. If it is something supernatural after Alan, we are out of our element. But this is where you come in. And I know there is no amount of cash value we can place on your services. However, I think you would be willing to accept payment in kind."

"Payment in kind? What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked.

Sam spoke before any of the Tracys could. "Payment in kind, Dean, refers to payment for goods or services with a medium other than money. Like if you received produce or livestock for work instead of cash from a farmer."

Kate nodded, smiling. "Indeed." Handing Sam two folders, she gave a slight nod. "How would you like that to disappear?"

Sam looked at the folders before handing them to his brother. Dean frowned at the FBI files on him and his brother. Looking over at Kate, he shrugged. "You can't make this stuff disappear. No one has that much money."

"Money," Kate mused, "is not the real source of power. Knowing how something works and how to get around it – that is power. This," she held up a small computer memory stick, "has a virus. If planted at the central processor for the FBI in Quantico, it will affect every law enforcement data base in the country. All references to brushes with the law for either one of you will vanish. You will never have even gotten a parking ticket."

"So we save Alan, we get a fresh start. Is that what you are proposing?" Sam asked, surprised but not shocked.

Kate shook her head. "No, take the case, in earnest; you get your names cleared. Solve the case, you get this." She handed him another file. Sam's eyes went wide as he looked at the file. Dean got sick of waiting and finally said, "What is it, Sammy?"

"Our parents' old house back in Kansas. The last family to live there moved out. It is now owned by a trust and being rented out. Dean – the trust is in our names."

Kate smiled. "The house is in good shape and a university professor is currently renting it. All you will need is for your signatures to be put side by side with mine and Alan's. Yes, Alan's. In order to collect, you need to keep Alan alive. You will notice that the trust can not be collected on for thirty days. I am sure you don't want to be doing this forever. Wouldn't it be nice to know you will have a financial resource to fall back on?"

Dean thought of all the near misses, all the things he had always wanted for his brother. Well, if they survived the Armageddon that Castiel kept warning him about, they could use the money sometimes. It would be nice to have some legitimate source of income.

Looking at each other, the brothers nodded. Jeff smiled, a strain seemingly released from him. "Thank you. While I don't approve of their methods and I will be having a discussion with them about it," Kate and Scott seemed to shrink under the parental disapproval, "I can understand it. My sons, well, they are my life. I call my family my true treasures. All my wealth, my success, would be nothing without my family. And Alan…he's my baby. I don't care how old he is, or even when he is married with babies of his own, I will still feel that way. I have seen too much in this world not to believe in what you hunt. And for some reason, something from the darkness is after my son. I have to agree – you boys may be my son's only chance. Thank you for giving us some hope. Now," he rose, motioning to the meals they had not yet finished. "Enjoy your lunches, and there is some apple pie at the end of the table. When you are done, Ann-Marie should be back. I will have her get someone to take you to your car. Kate had it moved to our garage and you need a card key to get in there. In the mean time, you two-" he motioned to Kate and Scott, "My office – NOW. We are in need of a discussion on how NOT to hire a contractor. Or about having my security team ignore someone breaking into the building."

As Jeff herded his son and daughter-in-law out, the Winchesters grinned and returned to their meals. Good food wasn't always readily available for them. Besides, there was pie.

**_A/N - I did this chapter to let the non Thunderbirds readers- and those who never read my Tracy Family Series - get caught up. So it is Alan who is at risk. What is after him? Will the Winchesters be able to save him? Will they be alive to collect their reward? Will Dean get more pie? Well, we shall see...Reviews. por favor...CC_**


	5. Chapter 5

**Payment in Kind**

**_Disclaimer - See chapter One_**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

It wasn't long before the Winchesters were cruising up the highway, headed for Boston. As they hit the congestion that was the Lincoln Tunnel, Dean reflected on his last conversation with the Tracys.

After finishing their meal and having some pie (Sam 1, Dean 3), the boys left the conference room to find Ann-Marie. Hearing the raised voices in one of the offices – impressive considering the doors were solid oak – Sam made to knock. Dean grabbed his brother's raised fist and held it back, even as he pressed an ear to the door, trying to hear what was going on. An amused "Ahem," caused Dean to freeze.

Ann-Marie smiled at the brothers. "I think Jeff should have things well enough in hand that it is safe to go in. Um, actually…wait one second." The secretary whirled around, dashed into Kate Tracy's office and came back out less than a minute later. "Yes, it is safe. Kate's gun is still in the drawer."

The woman had been speaking as she opened the door. Kate looked up as the trio entered, grumbling, "Shoot one guy, and everyone thinks you're trigger happy."

Not cowed in the least, Ann-Marie smiled. "According to your dad, it has been more than one. And actually, you shot Mitchell twice."

Even as Dean looked puzzled (until Sam mouthed "guy who kidnapped Alan"), Kate snapped back, "Yeah, well, I only shot him fatally the one time."

Sam chuckled at that. "Unless you are in our line of work, you usually only can shoot someone fatally once."

Kate blushed slightly, her color deepening as Jeff stated firmly, "And I think my son and daughter-in-law have something they would like to say."

Standing up, Kate folded her arms in front of her chest. Recognizing the defensive stance, the brothers tried not to smile. "OK, so we may have…" at Jeff's glare, she amended her words. "We shouldn't have borrowed Sam like we did. But," she glared back at her father-in-law, something even her husband did not dare to do, "I felt it was important to make our point. We are acting out of character because we are desperate. If something were to happen to Alan, it would tear our family apart. For our future as well as your own, please…find out what is happening and protect Alan."

Sam nodded, while Dean, who had been checking out Jeff's office, muttered, "You could have just asked."

Scott defended his wife, saying, "And if we had approached you, asked you to go to Boston and protect Alan, would you have? Or would you have freaked? This was the most time-efficient way."

Dean had been as fascinated with the pictures on Jeff Tracy's credenza as Sam had been of the ones on Kate's desk. There were three wedding pictures of his sons and their wives; the same sons with their wives and children; several of all five sons, some with their father, some without. There was one of Gordon Tracy at the Olympics, gold medal around his neck. And there was one of a blonde teenager, dressed in cap and gown, with a gold scarf. He recalled from Sam's graduation that meant graduating with honors. Picking it up, he addressed Jeff. "Is this Alan?"

Jeff nodded, taking the picture from Dean's hands. Reaching for one in the back, he handed it to Dean. A pretty blonde, with more than a striking resemblance to Alan, held a baby and was surrounded by four boys, apparently ranging in ages from five or so to about eleven. "That was Lucy, my wife. I took that picture the day we brought Alan home from the hospital." Running a finger over the image of his wife, he looked up at the Winchesters. "I lost Lucy; please…we need you to help Alan."

It was clear that begging was not something that came naturally to Jeff Tracy. But for his sons, there wasn't much the man would not do. The Winchesters left the family, more determined and focused than they had been in a long time.

* * *

Sam had taken over the driving shortly after they left New York City. As he pointed out to his brother, Sam had gotten a full night sleep, while Dean had spent much of the night hunting for his baby brother. He decided it was in the Tracys' best interest that Sam _not _mention that much of that sleep was due to the sedative Kate had slipped him on the plane. Kate had apologized for that while they were waiting for Dean to show.

"_I am sorry about sedating you. But we were landing at LaGuardia and it was not a good idea to have you running around between there and getting you to Tracy Towers. I spoke with Emily – she is a very good doctor – and she suspects from your reaction that you were physically exhausted so the sedative simply allowed you to sleep more deeply." Kate cocked her head, obviously concerned. "When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"_

_Sam had leaned back, trying to get comfortable. Sighing deeply, he admitted to Kate, "More than a year. It has probably been closer to a year and a half." _

He realized now that he had not slept for more than a few hours at a time since before Cold Oak. Sam had not gotten a full night's sleep since he was killed by Jake, only to be brought back a few days later by Dean's deal. And discovering how his brother had saved him, then losing him a year later, had prevented Sam from ever falling into a deep enough sleep to stay out for more than two or three hours at best. There were nights he hadn't slept at all. Even with Dean's return, Sam still had trouble sleeping. The biggest problem was that Sam was afraid. Afraid that Dean blamed him for his four months in Hell; afraid that Dean really did feel as if Sam was something that needed to be hunted and destroyed. But mostly, Sam was afraid that he would fall asleep only to wake to the realization it had all been a dream and his big brother was still gone. And that scared him more than he would ever admit_._

* * *

Dean dozed in his not-so-usual seat in the Impala. It wasn't often that Dean let Sam drive his baby, but damn it, he was tired. He hadn't been sleeping that well since returning from the Pit. All the booze in the world couldn't erase the nightmares that plagued him every time he closed his eyes.

Suddenly, Dean stretched and yawned, opening his eyes. As his eyes went wide, his mouth fell open. He wasn't in the Impala with Sam at the wheel. He was back at the freakin' dock! The same one that Sammy had been kidnapped from. _Shit_! Dean thought. _I dreamed it all? The Tracys, finding Sammy, heading to Boston? God, I gotta find Sam!_

"Sam is right beside you, Dean." At the calm sound of Castiel's voice, Dean froze and slowly turned. As the angel approached him, Dean watched him warily. "You are asleep. I just wanted to talk to you about what is happening."

"Listen, Castiel, I know. Seals are getting broken, Lucifer will take over the Earth, Armageddon is coming up fast…And as soon as we see if this kid needs help, and well, if he does, as soon as we help him, we'll get back to that."

Castiel walked further down the dock and looked out over the waves. "Dean, you need to take this one. In fact, I am the one who whispered the name Winchester into Katherine Tracy's ear. I can assure you, Alan Tracy is facing a supernatural enemy. You must protect him. His family needs him and the world needs his family."

Dean was ticked. "Mind telling me what is so special about the Tracys? They're a bunch of rich over-achievers, sure. But I can't see anything all that special about them."

Still facing the water, Castiel mused. "Do you know your mythology, Dean? The story of Pandora's Box?"

Nodding, Dean stepped closer to the angel. "Yeah, um…Chick opened a forbidden box, let trouble into the world."

Turning around, Castiel allowed himself a small smile. "Yes, Pandora opened the box and released all the worries and plagues into the world. Sickness, greed, jealousy were released but Pandora managed to close the box before the last thing in the box could escape. Do you know what that was, Dean?" When Dean shook his head, Castiel smiled once more. "It was hope. And because hope remained, the world could go on. As long as mankind had hope, they could continue. I can not tell you why, it is their secret to reveal, but because of the Tracys, the world has hope. They must be helped. Save Alan, you save his family. Save the Tracys, you help save the world."

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "No one person can be that important."

Castiel placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and began to walk away. He was almost off the dock when he called back to Dean. "It only takes one person to change the world, Dean. For better or for worse, the choices man makes can have a long-reaching effect. One man can make a difference."

Turning back to the water, Dean looked out at the waves before turning back to find Castiel gone. Grimacing, he shook his head one more time. "Whatever you say, Clarence."

* * *

"Hey, Dean. We're here." Sam's voice woke Dean from his rest.

Yawning, Dean looked around. The area was on the nicer end, but was not so high end that the boys would feel uncomfortable. Sam found, miraculously for Boston, a parking spot close to the address and pulled the Impala into the space. Getting out of the car, Sam went to get their luggage out of the trunk while Dean discreetly used his EMF meter to scan the area as he approached the condos where they would staying. When Dean moved the device over "their" door, only the slightest blip came up. But when he ran it over the center door – the condo Alan Tracy called home during the school year – a brief spike showed that there had definitely been spectral activity here.

Sam dropped their duffle bags at Dean's feet. Digging into his pocket, he handed his brother the key. "Dean, I'm going to get the weapons. We certainly better not leave them in the trunk." Dean absently nodded, putting the key into the lock even as he kept an eye on the meter.

As Sam once more approached the car that had been their "home" for most of his life, he couldn't help but look around, smiling briefly. A transit or "T" station was visible at the edge of a park just across the way. Shoppers from nearby Quincy Market merged with business people and students from the multiple colleges around the city as they either went down the stairs leading to the station or emerged into the crisp autumn air. Suddenly, he felt a coldness that had nothing to do with the weather.

Turning towards the condo, Sam tried to call out to Dean when the figure of a man briefly appeared before his horrified eyes. _"You will not stop me…" _The almost crooning voice was in dire contrast with the hate-filled eyes.

Before Sam could grab a weapon or even call for help, he felt as if someone was pushing him into the street. Losing his balance, he fell into the busy late afternoon street. As the air left his lungs in a rush, Sam looked back to see Dean emerging from the building, his eyes filled with horror. But Dean wasn't just looking at Sam; he was seeing the city bus that was rushing towards his fallen brother.

* * *

**_A/N - I wanted to make it clear that Castiel would know what is going on, maybe he is even helping. Oh, and the Clarence comment? That would be a reference to the perenial Christmas classic "It's A Wonderful Life". Sigh. Love that movie. But not every day now til Christmas. Glad that they reigned that in. So the Tracys have sent the lads off on a quest to save Alan but who will save Sam? Can you believe I left the chapter at this point? Sammygirl1963 sure couldn't but for some odd reason Sam1 wasn't the least bit surprised. I am utterly dismayed at her commentary. Not shocked, mind you..._**

**_PLEASE - Read and review. I love so many story alerts but even short comments are welcome. Thanks again...CC_**


	6. Chapter 6

**Payment in Kind**

**Chapter Six**

**_Disclaimer - see first chapter_**

* * *

Dean's cry of "Sammy" was almost drowned out by the screams of passer-bys. The older brother dashed down the stairs, knowing there was no way he could reach Sam in time.

Suddenly, a blonde young man ran into the street from the direction of the transit station. Grabbing Sam by the arms, he tucked and rolled them both towards the parked Impala. Pressing Sam into the side of the car, he held them tightly against the vehicle until the city bus had passed them by. By the time the bus had blown past, Dean was there, helping the two up.

Checking his brother over, Dean barely heard the blonde ask, "Are you OK?" Dean turned to look at Sam's rescuer and did his best not to let his jaw drop. Sam saw the shock on his brother's face and turned to see what had stunned his brother. His own surprise was fairly well hidden as the younger man repeated his question.

"Hey, are you OK? Did you hit your head or something?" Alan Tracy ran his eyes over the person he had just saved, not wanting to show his expertise in rescuing – and as a certified EMT – but unable to stop himself.

"Um, yeah. I'm OK. Uh, we were just trying to move in…" Alan interrupted Sam, noticeably relaxing.

"Oh, yeah, Sarah sent me a text message that someone had sublet Bill's apartment. That will be great. So you're researching Boston history, are you?"

"Yeah, yeah…researching." Dean muttered.

"Anything in particular? The Boston Massacre, the Tea Party, the Molasses Flood?"

Dean's eyes bulged as Alan subtly moved them onto the sidewalk. "Molasses Flood? You're kidding, right?"

Alan chuckled and looked a bit surprised as Sam joined him. It was Sam that answered his brother. "No, Dean, he is serious. There was something called the Great Molasses Flood here in Boston. I think around twenty people died when a molasses tank burst and flooded the streets."

"Twenty-one people were killed. So I take it that wasn't what you are researching?" Alan asked as he adjusted his messenger bag filled with his text books.

"No," Sam thought for a moment before answering. "Actually, we are doing research on ghosts in Boston."

Alan looked doubtful before chuckling. "Ghosts, huh? OK. Well, the condo only has one bedroom but the bed is comfortable. Sarah rents the condos furnished and the bed is a queen size, so you should be OK."

"There is only one bed?" Dean squeaked.

Looking puzzled, Alan asked, "Ah, nothing personal, but you are a couple, right?"

Sam tried not to laugh at the look on his brother's face. It was not the first time someone had presumed that they were a "couple". Smiling at Alan, he shook his head. "No. We're brothers. I'm Sam and this is my older brother, Dean."

With Dean still stunned, Alan moved back towards the condos. "OK, well, I love my brothers and I have no problem living with them but I haven't had to share a bedroom with any of them in a long time. But the couch is a sofa bed so you should be fine there. I'll be in all evening, so let me know if you need anything." Alan jogged up the stairs and entered into his condo, leaving the brothers in his wake.

"Nice kid," Sam mused as he opened the trunk.

"Dude, he thought we were gay. Do we look gay?"

Sam laughed. "Dean, people don't usually "look" gay. They either are or they aren't. Let's face it. We don't look much alike, we are always together and we usually sleep in the same room. Yeah, some people are gonna assume that. Especially since we don't usually tell people we are brothers. We still have to save him, Dean."

Following Sam as they carried the weapons bags in, Dean muttered, "I don't look gay. Sam – maybe, but I don't."

* * *

Soon, Sam and Dean had made themselves at home. Compared to many of the motel rooms they had occupied over the years, it was sheer luxury. The furnishing were comfortable, well-built but nothing that you were afraid to use. Framed prints from the Boston Museum of Fine Arts decorated the walls. The kitchen had little food but plenty of dishes. In short order, Dean had the weapons spread across the kitchen table while Sam was seated on the sofa (which Dean had claimed for sleeping, saying "Sasquatch couldn't sleep there.") starting his research.

"Dean, I don't think it's the house." Sam called out to his brother.

Picking up a sharpener, Dean honed a hunting knife as he leaned back to look through the opening between the kitchen and living room. "You sure, Sammy? I mean, the place looks pretty old."

"It is, Dean. This place was built by the Barrington Family in the 1760's. It was handed down in the family until the last member, Dr. Carol Watkins, daughter of Helen Barrington Watkins, died ten years ago. She had no children but left the house to her, um, spouse, Harry Johnson. Sarah Tracy is Harry's niece."

Dean looked thoughtful. "So, an old-fashioned Bostonian family, maybe Alan was doing a bit of hanky-panky with his girlfriend. I mean, they have known each other half their lives, been dating most of it. No big in my eyes, but these people were the puritans, right?"

"Actually, the Barringtons were not Puritans, just Pilgrams. There is a difference." Dean glared at his brother, so Sam hurried on. "The family was around for years, in fact, they had a smaller house not too far from here that burned down in 1762. The family escaped, and, with the increasing wealth, built the current structure in 1763. It was remodeled ten years ago into condos, the two one bedroom condos on either side being rented out, usually to students. Neither Harry nor Sarah ever charged as much as they could have gotten for the location. The biggest issue over the last several years was if the person passed a full security check."

"Because of Alan living here?"

Sam shrugged. "I would guess as much. The family has to know it would be easier to protect him in a secure condo than in a dormitory. Plus, since he occupies the two bedroom condo, they can visit him whenever they like. His best friend – one Fermat Hackenbacker – "

"Wait, a what-a-whoozy?"

"Yes, that is the kid's name." Sam replied only for Dean to mutter, _"Worse than Virgil." _Sam smiled and continued. "Anyhow, Fermat has a key but not a key card to the garage. I see from references to him, he has done a few exchange programs with MIT. He is currently working on his Masters at Cal-Tech."

"How much older than Alan is he?" Dean wondered.

Shaking his head, Sam smiled again. "Actually, he is more than a year younger."

Dean returned to the kitchen, "What are these people, a bunch of super-achievers out to make the rest of us look bad?"

Before Sam could respond, there was a knock on the door. Dean quickly closed the shutters between the kitchen and living room, as well as tossing a blanket over the array of weapons. Making sure Dean had that in hand, Sam opened the door.

Alan Tracy was standing there smiling. "Hey, I wasn't sure if you had any supplies with you, but Sarah called to remind me that Bill cleaned out all the perishables before he left. There are no open grocery stores in this area after six at night. I mean, there are some little Mom and Pop Shops, but you'll pay big time. You can hit Market Basket on the T in the morning but the red line doesn't run that route at night. So," he held up a phone, "I was about to order a pizza from Pino's. Best pizza in Boston. Want me to make it a large?"

Dean was leery about accepting, but Sam quickly said, "Sounds great. Do you need anything brought over?"

Alan shook his head. "Nah. Well, unless you want beer or something. There is a store a block north of here, it only carries Sam Adams, but it's not bad. I just never took a liking to beer myself. I am legal now," he added defensively.

Sam and Dean tried not to laugh. "I believe ya, kid." Dean responded.

"Oh, yeah. And if you want, you can use this." Alan handed a card key to the older Winchester. "Bill didn't have a car, but I thought you may want to get your car off the street. Usually if someone is visiting me, I let them use this condo's parking spot in the garage, but since you have a car and all. I mean, it's a good neighborhood but why take the chance, right?" Retreating into the hallway, he smiled once more. "So, if I call now, pizza should be here in about thirty minutes. It's a weekday, so maybe a bit less. I'll ask for three salads as well."

"Make it two, kid." Dean growled. Sam and Alan were now the ones looking as if they were holding back laughter. Sam closed the door after watching Alan go back in his. "Well," Dean mused. "So much for trying to figure out how to get close enough to Alan to find out what is after him. I'll just head out to find that market and grab some drunken patriot beer."

Dean left his brother standing there, smiling sadly. But for once, he wasn't sad about the last few years. Instead, he was lost in the memory of his days at Stanford. How many times had he longed for his family? Sam had made friends, he had met Jess early on, but he had never stopped wanting his father and Dean. Especially Dean. Sam couldn't help but wonder if that was one of the reasons Alan was reaching out to them. Certainly, Alan was a polite, friendly young man. But he spent a great deal of time away from what was clearly a very close family. Most of the time, Alan had his girlfriend close by. But this time, even she was far away.

Well, like Dean said a chance to get closer to Alan, which would make it easier to protect him as well as finding out what could be after the younger man. Besides, he had heard of Pino's. The Tracys knew where to get all the good food.

* * *

Twenty-five minutes later, Sam was standing in Alan's condo. The younger man was friendly and outgoing. Soon, Sam was pulling through Alan's music collection.

"Pretty eclectic collection here, Alan." Sam called out as Alan emerged from the kitchen carrying a can of diet cola and a bottled water. Accepting the water, Sam took a long drink as Alan pulled out a CD.

"Not all of it's mine," he laughed. Putting in a CD of AC/DC – man, Dean would forgive Alan for his earlier "partners" assumption – the blonde pointed to several of the cases, saying, "It seems whenever someone in the family visits, they leave behind a book, or a movie, or some music. I'll have to start moving it back as it gets closer to graduation."

"If you can figure out who owns what," Sam joked.

Alan just smiled. "After spending twenty-one years with my family, I know their tastes. I know who left what. Besides, I color coded them."

Leaning down closer, Sam laughed at the small dots on each CD. Walking over to the cases with books and DVDs, he laughed some more at similar dots on their spines. "Who is what color?"

"Scott, my oldest brother, is blue. Then John has gold, Virgil gets green and Gordon has the orangish-yellow one."

"How did you pick the colors?" Sam asked.

Hiding his face – and his smirk – Alan tried not to laugh. "Oh, it just came to me." With International Rescue being a _secret _rescue organization, Alan felt it to not be prudent to admit that he matched each brother with the color of their Thunderbird vehicle. The doorbell rang before anyone could speak further.

Sam felt like drooling even while Alan was paying for the pizza. Placing the box and the bag containing the salads on a low table, Alan looked over at a small panel on the wall.

"The card key for the garage was just activated. I would say your brother is back. Call him and tell him we'll meet him in the garage."

Sam frowned. "I think Dean can find his way back up with one six pack of beer."

Alan shrugged. "No doubt. But, it has started to rain and while Dean can park down there, he would have to go back outside to get into the condos. On the other hand, I can access the garage without ever leaving the building." Moving towards the door, he added over his shoulder, "Another security feature. Makes my dad have fewer gray hairs."

Sam called Dean quickly and the elder Winchester assured them he would wait for the pair. Catching Alan at a virtually hidden door in the alcove, he watched as Alan punched in a code and then placed his thumb when a separate pad was revealed. "Double locked, huh?" Alan smiled, and shrugged. Sam was used to taking extra measures of security, and of even being a target. But it was due to the supernatural that his family hunted. How did it make Alan feel to be a target due to money? In the end, Sam supposed, both were used to being considered vulnerable to what their family was.

As he followed Alan down the well-lit stairwell, Sam asked something that had been bugging him.

"Alan? You are awfully friendly to a couple of guys you just met. Hasn't anyone ever warned you about that?"

Alan laughed as he opened the garage access door. "Please. Do you think you would have ever been able to sublet the condo if you didn't pass Kate's full-level security check? Before you would be OK'd, the elders knew your credit rating, any brushes with the law; your GPA is the 5th grade and the first girl you ever kissed."

Shaking his head, Sam followed the Alan into the garage. His family appreciated that preparation prevented problems. After all, if you didn't do the research you could find the witch you suspected was secretly a demon. Lack of planning led to failure. In both families' cases, that could be fatal.

Sam and Alan were barely into the garage when the heard Dean call out, "Holy Hell!" Pushing Alan behind him, Sam pulled out a gun as he prepared to defend Alan and hopefully help his brother as well.

**_A/N - Well, the boys have met Alan. And Alan showed his Thunderbird wings when he saved Sam. But what has Dean so freaked out? And Alan explained (much to Sammygirl1963's relief) why he was willing to be so friendly with the boys...He knows they have to be safe. Of course, safe and Winchester can be relative terms._**

**_Just finished watching the episode "Heaven and Hell". Man, that was cool. Interesting how Dean got touched by an angel...In the back seat of the Impala. Part of me wishes I could use some of what has happened since "Wishful Thinking". But that would mess up my story. Then again...maybe I can use hints of it. I just wanna hug Dean and wipe away those tears. Jensen did a great job. And who wants to kick some angel booty? Or Alastair?_**

**_Oh, Sam Adams, for those not in the know, was a microbrewery in Boston that became a nation-wide beer a few years back. I can remember living west of the Mississippi and not being able to get any. Pino's is considered one of the best places in Boston to get a slice. I am not sure if they have delivery but I am guessing they do. I will be bringing bits of local color in when I can. Enjoy, and puh-lease...review. - CC_**


	7. Chapter 7

**Payment in Kind**

**_Disclaimer - see ch 1_**

**

* * *

****Chapter Seven**

"Dean!" Sam cried out. "Dean, are you OK?" Sam entered further into the garage, lights triggered by motion detectors.

Dean stood a few feet from the Impala. A small bag of junk food and a six pack of Sam Adams Lager were on the ground. Making sure Alan was safely behind him, Sam approached his brother once more. Suddenly, Dean sighed. Confused, Sam came up behind his brother, gently touching his shoulder. "Dean? What is it?"

Suddenly, Dean turned and grinned at his brother. "Ain't they the prettiest thing ya ever saw, Sammy Boy? I mean, next to my baby."

Sam chuckled as he joined his brother, whistling in appreciation of the sight in front of him. Two cars were parked side-by-side – two Ford Thunderbird Convertibles.

Alan sidled up next to the Winchesters, smiling slightly. "Yeah, they are nice. The black one," he pointed to the car on the left, "belongs to my sister-in-law, Sarah. She loves that car. Nobody – and I mean nobody – is allowed to touch her. Sarah inherited it from her Aunt Harry along with the condos."

Before Alan could say anything more, Dean interrupted. "_Aunt _Harry? I thought Harry was married to the daughter of the family that owned this place?"

Smiling cheekily, Alan piped up, "Well, she was. It just wasn't recognized in all fifty states. Massachusetts has gay marriage as the law on the books."

Sam tried not to laugh at the look on Dean's face. While not a homophobe, Dean did seem to prefer traditional gender roles when it came to sex – to put it mildly. Alan recognized his discomfort and continued.

"Yeah, so, anyhow, that's a 1957 model. Mine is a 1959."

Dean approached the two cars. "These babies are mint. OK, so Sarah – that's Virgil's wife, right? – own the black beauty here."

"Actually, it was her, well, aunt's spouse who owned it. Harry didn't drive. But Sarah loves that car. And the blue one is mine." Alan had moved over to the powder blue classic car. "You should have seen it when we got it. The only thing I asked for when I turned sixteen."

Joining the younger man, Dean shrugged. "Not a bad present, a sweet set of wheels."

Shaking his head, Alan laughed. "Not when we got it. The transmission was shot, the engine was dying, and there was rust holes and damage to the one window. Most people would have trashed it. Dad and I spent the next two years, every time I came home from school, rebuilding it. Whenever I sit in it, I can feel my dad with me."

Looking back over at his car, remembering his trip back to 1973 and persuading a young John Winchester to buy the Impala, Dean gave a soft smile. Recalling all the times in that car, learning to fix it or just watching out for his brother, the memories ties into the car so close to his father, Dean understood.

Turning back to Alan, Dean froze at the glare the blonde was shooting at Sam. Or more specifically, the glare he was giving the gun still clutched in the younger Winchester's hand. Sam gave his best smile as he put the weapon away. "Alan, I can explain…"

"No explanations needed. It's my family, isn't it? Dammit, I am not some little kid anymore! I'm twenty-one! I'll be graduating soon! I'm gonna to get married next June…" Alan froze. "Actually, my family doesn't know that one."

Dean smirked. "Hate to tell you, kid. But they do. Kate and your dad are OK with it, Scott is seriously freaked."

Alan shrugged at that update. "Makes sense. Kate sometimes still sees me as a kid, but at least it is a teenager. Scott…well, "Scott" was my first word. I held his hands when I learned to walk, he taught me to ride a bike and to fly a plane."

Sam smiled. He could say the same things about Dean in his life. Well, except the plane. He couldn't get Dean willingly into a plane. "And your Dad taught you to drive, right?"

"No, that would be Parker." Seeing the brothers confused looks, he responded, "Long story. So…" Alan glared at them. "Are you really brothers or just professionals who work together?"

"Professional what?" Dean asked, confused.

"Bodyguards, what else? I told my family, these are just some dumb accidents. Trust me, weird stuff has happened before. I don't need anyone to baby-sit me. I can take care of myself." Any bonding Alan had allowed around the T-Birds was dropped as he moved towards the door. He was almost there when he called out, "You guys better join me unless you want to get soaked. I can hear the wind and rain from…"

Alan's words were cut off as the door leading from the garage slammed shut and the lights began to flicker. Sam and Dean looked at each other in concern.

"Maybe it's the wind?" Dean muttered.

"Dean, the garage is sealed, there are no open doors or windows and do you feel that temperature drop? It's not that late in the year for freezing temps in Boston."

Before Dean could respond, a tool box flew off the shelf, just missing Alan's head. Sam rushed over to cover Alan as the box flew open. Tools began to fly around as if caught in the maelstrom of a tornado. Sam cried out as a screwdriver tore a gash across his upper arm. Dean made his way to the door, cursing as he found it locked.

"Alan! What is the key code?"

Alan gasped from his position under Sam. "Eight-six-seven-five-three-zero-nine." Catching Dean's bewildered look, he cried out, "So, I like old rock music. Sue me!"

Dean would have laughed at the eighties rock reference if not for the tools that continued to fly way too close to Alan and Sam. The blood on his brother's sleeve was not helping any. A small light on the panel went from red to green but when Dean tried the door it was still locked. "It's not working!"

"It's a two-part lock," Alan called. "Needs a voice command."

"Does it have to be yours?" Sam called out, weakening in the onslaught of debris.

"NO!" Alan yelled as the wind seemed to turn into a roar.

"So, give it to me!" Dean called back as the empty tool box smashed into him. He didn't mind that much but if Casper hurt his brother any more or the Impala was so much as scratched…

"Thunderbirds are go." Alan hollered from his prone position.

But apparently, the mike was sensitive and a second red light above the door also turned from red to green. Dean held open the door as the unholy wind tried to once more pull it shut. "C'mon kiddies, we don't have all night!"

Sam pulled himself to his feet, yanking Alan along with him. They made it through the door, which slammed shut the second Dean released it. As Dean leaned against the door, watching as Sam and Alan lowered themselves to the stairs in exhaustion, all three flinched as the "wind" made a sudden inhuman screech and the door shook against the elder brother. A loud pounding noise drew their attention almost as surely as the sudden silence. Alan stood, moving towards Dean and grabbing his arm to pull him aside. Touching the now warped metal, he flinched at the freezing surface. Looking over at the brothers, he whispered, "That door is eighteen inches of reinforced steel. What the hell is going on?"

Dean was about to snap something back when Sam tried to stand, only to lose his balance and fall back against the stairs. "Whoa. Sammy, I got ya."

Alan was quickly on Sam's other side, placing a supporting arm around him. "Come on. Let's get back to my place."

Shaking his head, Dean started, "No, Sammy needs…", only for Alan to interrupt.

"He needs stitches; plus, I want to check him for damage to his ribs and a possible concussion. If needs be, we can call for an ambulance as I don't think any of us want to go back in the garage at this time. But I am certified as an EMT and I have medical supplies in the condo, so let's get your brother upstairs." They had begun to head up the stairs when Alan added, "And I still want some answers."

"No problem, kid," Dean snapped. "Just as soon as we patch up Sam, I'll be wanting some answers as well. Like who hates you enough to want you dead and why an angel thinks you need to be saved."

Alan stopped and stared. "Wh-what?"

Dean continued to move, forcing Alan to accompany the brothers. "Like you said kid, long story." They were almost at the door to Alan's condo when a sudden howling wind – a natural occurrence in Dean's opinion, based on the earlier weather – was followed by a loud crash from outside. After opening the door, Dean led Sam in as Alan peaked out the window of the foyer.

"Well, be glad you moved your car." As both brothers shot him a confused look, Alan entered the condo and closed the door. "The maple that used to be across the street is now _across_ the street. And it just smashed the car that took your parking spot. That car is now a metal pancake."

"Well, wadda ya know," Dean muttered to his brother's amusement. "Mom was right. Angels are watching out for us."

* * *

**_A/N - As you can see, they were OK. And most of you figured out that 1) Dean saw a cool car and 2) Alan is annoyed. But did you count on TWO cool cars? Yes, Alan and his sister-in-law both own Thunderbirds. I made those cars a nudge-nudge, wink-wink, joke several times in the Thunderbirds series I did. And now the ghost has struck again. Kudos to Sam for his quick action. _**

**_Yes, this chapter is kinda short. But I wanted to get it posted because I won't have time for the next two days - so if I don't respond quickly to reviews, I promise I will do so by Wednesday. I have to work both my regular job and my seasonal for the next two days...But I have Wednesday off from the mall job and Thursday off from both. So wish me luck in staying sane. (OK, girls, I know who is out there giggling right now...) And, if you are nice and send me reviews, I can have ch 8 up by Wednesday, maybe even before work. - CC_**


	8. Chapter 8

**Payment in Kind**

**Chapter Eight**

**_Disclaimer - see chapter one._**

* * *

Alan had helped Dean carefully remove his brother's shirt as they made Sam comfortable on the couch. Dean kept his eye on his brother until Alan emerged from what looked to be the pantry with a large box. His eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw the array of medical supplies the younger man possessed. _"Dang," _he thought. _"The kid has a much better med kit than we do."_

As Alan began to expertly clean and stitch the gash on Sam's arm, Dean looked around the condo. Like the one he and Sam were occupying, it was nice but nothing that screamed _Money._ Then again…The entertainment system was excellent and the laptop on the table made Sam's look like a tinker toy. "Nice computer. Best that money can buy, right?"

Alan's lips tightened into a thin line as he focused on the stitches. "That can't be bought. My best friend's dad is an inventor. He made both of us our lap tops for graduation presents from high school. It has more memory than anything on the market even now, is probably twice as fast and has some great security features." _And, _he thought, _it has a link-up so I can monitor rescues and talk to whatever brother – or sister-in-law – is manning Thunderbird Five at the moment._

Dean had quietly entered the pantry and grinned as he found a small container of rock salt. With winter approaching and the way the Tracys seemed to like to plan for every occasion, he had been sure there would be some. Not as much as Alan would need in January, but enough for Dean to salt the windows and doors. Coming back into the living room, he watched for a moment as Alan gave Sam a few quick tests for a concussion – which Sam, it turned out, didn't have. Satisfied the kid actually knew what he was doing, Dean moved around the condo, discreetly salting the windows.

"Nice pictures," Dean commented about a nearby painting when he saw Alan eyeing him from across the room.

Alan continued to clean the small cut on the back of Sam's head, checking for any debris as he answered, "I'll tell Virgil you said so."

Dean froze for a moment, and then approached one of the paintings. Sure enough, in the corner the signature read _Virgil Tracy_. "Your brother did these? Hey, I may not know art," Dean ignored Sam's snicker, "but I know these are good. He could be making a freakin' fortune doing this."

"Money isn't everything. Besides, Virgil says painting comes too easily. It wasn't something he had to work for. And Dad always taught us that anything worth having was worth working for. Not to mention, if Virgil painted for a living, then he couldn't just paint whatever catches his fancy. He enjoys it more this way."

Alan lifted Sam's undershirt, checking his ribs before grunting in satisfaction. "Nothing broken there. You got lucky." Picking up his supplies, he put most of the items back in the box and then bagged up the waste. Pulling out a bottle, he asked Sam if he had any medicine allergies. When Sam said no, he got out a couple of pills and a needle. At the Winchesters' concerned looks, Alan gave a small smile. "Tylenol and a shot of a fast acting anti-biotic. Equal to a week's worth of taking pills. It breaks down in your system at the same rate." As Alan injected the needle into Sam's arm, Dean stared in shock.

"I never heard of such a thing," Dean grumbled.

"And you won't until the patent goes through," Alan responded cheerfully.

"I'm a guinea pig?" Sam squeaked in alarm.

"No, of course not," Alan assured him as he returned the med box to the pantry. "I was. Virgil tried it out on me when I got hurt…Well, it worked. Not like he could try it out on John. Big brother has a real needle phobia. And you should have seen the look on Scott's face…"

"Your brother, Virgil, is a mechanical engineer. Why would he have anything to do with medicine?"

Sam's question, although perfectly reasonable, left Alan a tad stymied. Without revealing that the Tracys were International Rescue, he would be hard pressed to answer. Finally, he shrugged. "What can I say, we are an eclectic group. It is never a bad thing to go beyond your point of specialty. Makes you a more well-rounded individual."

Dean and Sam looked at each other and frowned. They knew a bull-shit story when they heard one. God knows, they had told enough of them over the years.

"Listen, Alan, we can't help you unless we know the truth." Sam tried to be rational.

Alan sighed. "OK, first things first." Alan moved over to what had seemed to be a small television or computer. "I want to call my family."

"To give them Hell or verify we were asked by them to look into things?" Sam asked as he made himself comfortable on the couch.

"Both."

Dean looked confused. "Hey, Kid…phone is over there." He pointed to the cordless phone next to where Sam was sitting.

Alan didn't even look up. "Hey, old guy, this one is better."

Dean glowered first at Alan and then at Sam for snickering. "What, that computer have a camera attachment?"

"No, it's a vid-phone."

Sam sat up, ignoring his discomfort as he stared in fascination. Dean merely looked confused. "A _what_?"

"Dean," Sam stage whispered. "A vid-phone. Those are…I mean, I know some high ranking government officials have begun to use them, but…Wow."

Alan gave a slight smile. "Tracy Enterprises hold the patents on this device. We field tested them out by placing them in our home – or homes – and a few offices. They are now being used by several world powers for secure lines. The calls can't be traced or hacked into by any known technology." Alan decided not to share the knowledge that his father had not sold the device until they made sure that the backdoor was left open in case International Rescue ever needed to trace or monitor calls.

Sitting down, Alan punched in the number for his father's home office. An added digit informed the person answering that Alan was not alone, if the Command and Control for the Thunderbirds was up, make sure that the vid-phone was facing in a direction that no one else could tell the signs that the Thunderbirds were there. The other end of the line picked up and a pretty blonde woman answered the phone.

"Hi, Sweetie! What's up?" Emily Tracy, wife of the second of Alan's brothers, John, cheerfully greeted her brother-in-law.

"Hey, Em. Any of the elders around?" Dean and Sam tried not to snicker at that.

"No, sweetie. They are away for the family business." Alan gave a small smile at the code phrase the Tracys had long ago given to their work as the Thunderbirds. The smile quickly turned into a frown.

"Em, they didn't leave you alone, did they?"

Emily gave a small laugh. "No. Sarah just went to check on the kids. She set up a portable crib in your Dad's room since it is the closest to the office. Elizabeth and Jason are napping in his bed and DJ is in the crib with Michael." Shifting in discomfort, Emily stood for a moment to grab a bottled water before returning to her seat. When she stood up, the Winchesters could see the woman was obviously pregnant. They recalled Jeff Tracy's words about this daughter-in-law being in a high-risk pregnancy. "Don't worry, Alan. I'm wearing the monitor and I'm not being allowed to lift anything heavier than this." She held up the bottle before taking a sip. Setting it down, the young doctor looked at Dean standing behind Alan's right shoulder and Sam visible behind his left one. "Was there another "accident"?"

Alan's face became stormy. "Em, I don't need a baby-sitter. I sure as hell don't need a bodyguard. And I'll be damned if I need two."

"And you will watch your language young man, or I will fly out to Boston and wash your mouth out with soap." Sarah Tracy, her bright red hair pulled into a braid down her back, appeared behind Emily. Never able to stay mad at the boy she had known since he was in diapers – she had even baby-sat him when they lived in Kansas – Sarah smiled. "Hey, baby. The elders are just doing what they think is best. Based on the information Kate got – and you know there is no one better at Kate at finding the truth – we are afraid something may be after you. If it is because of the family or something more personally aimed at you…Well, the Winchesters, according to Kate, are the best in their field of specialty. Let them do their job."

"Yes," Emily cheerfully added as she rubbed her stomach. "After all, Kate and Scott had to commit a felony to gain their services."

Alan's jaw dropped. "Wh-what? Straight-arrow Scott and by-the-book Kate? Commit a felony? Like what?"

"Kidnapping." Dean growled. "They kidnapped Sam in order to "get my attention"."

Sighing, Alan looked down before facing his sisters-in-law once more. "They really think this is serious, don't they?"

Serious, Emily and Sarah nodded before the former once more spoke. "Yes, sweetie. They do. So do the rest of us. So work with the Winchesters and…come home safe, OK?"

Sarah touched the screen, Alan matching her gesture. "We love you, baby. Stay safe."

Knowing Sarah had to get back to monitoring the rescue, Alan went to wrap up the conversation. "OK. I will play along for now. But only because two of my three favorite sisters-in-law asked." Then he frowned. "And Emily, you need to go lie down."

"Yes, Dr. Tracy," Emily chuckled. Standing up – with some help from Sarah – Emily carefully made her way, grumbling, "Just when I think he is a chip off the rock of Scott, he starts to channel John."

"Don't worry, Em," Sarah cheerfully called. "It's when he starts channeling Gordon we should all worry. Turning back to the vid-phone, she directed her next statement to the Winchesters. "You take care of Alan, you hear me? This red hair just isn't for show."

"Lady," Dean grinned, "I would never mess with a woman who drives a T-Bird."

Sarah softened for a moment. "Well, you can't be that bad if you can recognize and respect a classic."

Alan smiled. "Give everyone my love, and kisses to the sippy-cup set." Sarah nodded and signed off.

Turning back to the Winchesters, Alan sighed in resignation. "OK, for now I will allow this. My family usually shows good judgment. But I am not curbing my life, so you best keep up."

Dean and Sam shrugged themselves. How hard could it be to keep up with one college student?

* * *

**_I worried it seemed like Alan was giving in too easily. But one thing is, he loves his family. And he knows Emily and Sarah were not directly responsible. But it may be smart of Kate and Scott to stay out of his path for a while. Tracy temper vs. Winchester temper - scary similar._**

**_I know I said this would be up by Wednesday. Techinically, it still is. But I worked the past two days - between two jobs - from eight thirty in the morning until close to eleven at night. I was so tired, that after work today (I only worked my main job, so I went home by five) I came home and fell asleep from five thirty to eight thirty. I have no clue how I am gonna keep that up until Christmas. But wanna make me feel better? Review, review, review...CC_**

**_PS - I want to wish a Happy Thanksgiving to all the Yanks! And for anyone else, may you be spared the horrors of the day after Thanksgiving at the malls. Me? I have to work it. Include me in your prayers._**


	9. Chapter 9

**Payment in Kind**

**Chapter Nine**

**_Disclaimer - see chapter one_**

* * *

In the darkness of Alan's apartment, Dean woke to the slightest noise. The night before, after discreetly placing sigils throughout the apartment and salting all the entrances, Alan had calmly informed them he was going to bed, leading to a meeting of like minds – all stubborn as hell.

_Ten O'Clock last night…_

"_OK, we have eaten, Dean's had fun with cooking material and Sam has done post-modern artwork throughout my home. I have to get to bed and you guys need to head back to your own place." Alan turned to dismiss them but rolled his eyes when he saw them plant themselves firmly._

"_The only place we are headed kid, is to grab some weapons and bedding. I'll be sleeping on the couch; Sam will be in the other bedroom. We are gonna be right here if the spirit attacks again."_

_Frowning at Dean, Alan shook his head. "No need. If this is an "angry spirit" – um, is that mainly a pissed off ghost?" When Sam nodded, Alan continued. "OK, the attacks take place at intervals. And while the intervals are increasing in frequency and intensity, they still are not taking place within hours. I am a big boy. I dress myself, wipe my own bottom and eat from the big boy menu. So how about backing off?"_

_Dean glared at Alan, "And how about we call the folks? Tell them you are being immature and irrational and they need to drag your butt home?"_

_Looking over at Sam, Alan asked, "Would he really do that?" At Sam's quick nod, Alan sighed. "Fine. But like I said, this is my last year to just be Alan Tracy. After that I go back to being Jeff Tracy's son, fill-in-the blank Tracy's brother. I even get to be Tin-Tin's husband and someday, God willing, so and so's father. I never used to appreciate this opportunity. I was always fighting with my dad, wanting to be home schooled and felt like I needed my family's attention. After…well, eventually my family went from me being an afterthought to being absolutely smothered. I will want to live near my family and I miss them but I am enjoying myself. I need this time as Alan Tracy as badly as I know my first class starts at 0720. So be ready to hit the floor running."_

What Dean hadn't realized, until he saw the figure of Alan Tracy adjusting a running shoe, was when he said for them to hit the floor running, he had meant it literally. "Alan?" he yawned. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Morning run. Every morning, 0530." Grinning as Dean tried to untangle himself from the comfortable nest he had made for himself on the couch, Alan pulled out two objects from the small table next to the door. "Spare key to the apartment, spare key to the garage. But it may be better if you just meet me at the north end of Quincy Market. I run through there. If it makes you happy, I often stop for a coffee at Dunkie's." With that, Alan opened the door.

Dean was about to protest when he saw Sam emerge from the other condo. It concerned Dean that he had not previously heard his brother awaken or go to the other apartment. With a limited amount of relief, Dean realized that Sam was dressed to go running as well. Alan shook his head.

"So, you are committed to this shadowing thing, huh?" Sam grinned smugly. "OK. Most mornings I just do a light three miles. Keep up and the mocha light lattes are on me." Closing the door behind him, Dean could hear the outer door open and close, with two pairs of sneakers falling into a rhythm.

"Of all the kids, in all the college towns, that I gotta save – I get the one whose idea of a good time is morning runs and low fat lattes." Grumbling, Dean stumbled up to splash water on his face. In the bathroom, Dean looked up and froze. Closing his eyes, he slowly reopened them before swiftly turning back around. There was no one there. But for the briefest moment, Dean could have sworn he saw…

Running back into the living room, Dean rummaged through his sack until he found what he was looking for. Pulling out his EMF, Dean quickly scanned the room. Cursing, Dean replaced the meter. "Damn it kid, something is here. But who and why?" Dean knew if the could not discover who was after Alan, there was no way to salt and burn Casper's ashes.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Dean sat in the Impala, sipping on a large cup of coffee and polishing off the third donut from the "Quick Pull" box of Dunkin Donuts favorites. In the well-lit area, he watched as vendors prepped carts and store owners began to enter enclosed areas of the three hundred year old market place. While it had been years since cattle and sheep had mixed with fruit and corn vendors, really little had changed. Then again…Dean smiled as the curtain was removed and a lingerie shop owner gave him a suggestive smile. His attention was quickly realigned as he took note of the figures of Alan and Sam lightly jogging towards him.

Laughing, Alan tossed his blonde locks out of his eyes. "Not bad, Sam. Not too bad at all."

Panting, Sam groaned as he plopped down upon a bench. "Did you – ugh- have to jump over the benches and fire hydrants?"

"I just did that around Fanuel Hall! Gets the blood flowing!" Alan grinned. "C'mon. Lattes on me."

Alan moved over to the open street level window of the Dunkin' Donuts shop, while Sam sprawled on the bench. Dean joined his brother, dumping his feet on the ground to make room.

"Y'know, Sammy, we could have just tailed him in the Imapala."

Sam panted, "Never would have kept up. Y'Know that Alan was offered a spot on the last Olympic Track Team? Turned them down. He, ah, he," Sam grabbed his brother's coffee and took a huge gulp before Dean could snatch it back. "He's still in really good shape. Made me feel like an old man."

Dean's response was halted by Alan's return. "Here you go, Sam. One Mocha Latte, with skim milk. Dean, could you hold mine for a second?"

Accepting Alan's cup and small bag (Dean couldn't resist peaking but quickly shut it upon seeing the whole wheat bagel), the brothers watched as Alan approached a sleeping figure on another bench.

"Ben," Alan whispered gently. "Ben, wake up. The patrols will be clearing you out soon. Time to get up."

The older man rolled over. Sam and Dean could see the grizzled face and world-weary eyes. Yet at the sight of Alan, the man's eyes lit up and his smile was dazzling. "Allie. You here for old Ben?"

Alan smiled and handed the man a coffee and a bag. "One hot cup of coffee, no cream and three Splenda. And two bacon, egg and cheese croissants. Now," he started as Ben began his morning with inhaling the first sandwich, "Reverend Abbot is expecting you at the mission. The nights are getting too cold. Ben, you weren't out here in the rain last night, were you?"

"No, Allie," the older man shook his head. "I was over by the stores. Just had to scat once the people start coming in. They don't like ol' Ben much."

"Promise me, Ben. The mission tonight?" Alan smiled at the homeless man's nod and returned to the brothers. Quickly finishing his latte and bagel, Alan did a few light stretches before facing Sam and Dean. "OK, I need to shower and change if I am going to catch the T over to Harvard before my first class. And we need a cover story for you. I have no doubt that my family hasn't already brainstormed some. If not we need to. Because no way am I letting the fourth estate think that I need protection."

Watching Alan jog lightly towards his home, Sam smiled. Turning to his brother, he saw Dean shrug. "OK," Dean said, "that was nice of the kid. But I still don't know why Heaven wants us to save his ass."

Sam's smile turned into a look of confusion. "I thought I remembered you saying something about that last night. What are you talking about?"

Dean shook his head. "Explain later, you catch up with out vic now." When Sam groaned, Dean just grinned. "Hey, you're wearing the gear. I'll just head back with my baby." Watching his brother jog off, Dean couldn't get rid of the smile on his face. Yeah, Alan Tray was good kid. He wasn't like so many wealthy people, just writing a check or, worse, ignoring those less fortunate.

"But," Dean grumbled, "I still can't see why Castiel says he is so important to the well-being of the world…" _Where was an angel to send someone to protect Sam? Why did my little brother die in the dirt of Cold Oak? Why was I forced to sell my soul to save Sam? Who was there to protect Sammy? _Then again, that had always been Dean's job…

* * *

A little less than an hour later, the trio was showered, shaved and entering the crowded South Station for the Mass Transit Authority. "From this point, you can pretty much get anywhere in the city. Most of what's outside the city as well. I know you have an intimate relationship with your car, Dean." Sam's chuckle broke off at his brother's glare. "But unless you are going somewhere that you absolutely have to – I usually will drive at night as the subway doesn't run as often – don't bother driving." Alan walked over to a kiosk and submitted a twenty dollar bill. Punching in a few numbers, two cards were delivered in an out tray. Turning around he faced them. "OK, here are two Charlie Cards. Just wave them at the sensors and once your in a line you can use them to go anywhere."

Buying another cup of coffee and a fruit cup at Au Bon Pain, Alan waited for the brothers to get their own coffees before leading them to the exit he needed. "OK, this is South Station. Check out the map, I usually go all the way to Harvard. On the rare mornings Tin didn't take the T down to meet up with me for my morning run, we still would meet here. The student housing she got the last two semesters was closer to here than to MIT. She just got off at Kendall and I would move on to Harvard." As they boarded the subway, the Winchesters noticed plenty of people smiling at Alan. He returned the silent greetings, occasionally adding a wave or helping someone balance a load before he found a strap to hold onto. Motioning to two other straps, he suggested, "I would grab one. Otherwise you may fall on your…" As Dean almost fell – but didn't thanks to Sam's quick action – Alan allowed a small smile as the subway pulled away from the station..

Most of the trip was made in relative silence, the packed commuter rail not allowing any privacy. After Central station, Alan, Sam and Dean were pretty much the only ones standing. The remaining passengers, most of which seemed to be students or professors, were all seated, reviewing notes, reading a book or perusing a current periodical. It seemed as if they all had a laptop bag, with many having separate book bags. Alan's own messenger bag contained his ultra thin computer, his books and even his fruit cup for a midmorning snack.

"OK," Alan said quietly. "My brother John has established identities for you two. You are Dean and Sam Keith, our second cousins. Sam is doing research for his doctorate in history. Allows you to be pretty flexible in what you look at and talk to Madelyn at the main desk of the library at Harvard and you will be given a renewable day pass. Oh, and here…" Alan dug into his bag and handed Sam a card. "You said you wanted to do research. The Harvard Library is one of the best. This card will let you make copy of any info you want to. This" he held up a small device, "Will let you scan anything you like to my computer. I can forward you anything you need."

Sam took the small device. "Alan…is this something...I mean…"

Alan grinned. "Patent pending. I love being a guinea pig for my brothers." He suddenly frowned. "Most of the time. Be advised: Never eat Scott's cooking."

Sam and Dean chuckled before Dean became serious. "OK, Sam is a research geek – no big stretch. How do you explain me?"

"Gordy thought of that one. You are our cousin Dean, fresh out of the marines and looking to head back to college. As a favor, Harvard is allowing you to shadow some of my classes. As a shadow, you have to go wherever I do and I am honor bound to be responsible for you. Try not to cause too much in material damage." He seemed to think for a moment. "Oh, and pre-law chicks will find you fascinating, pre-med will ignore you, football players are wusses and avoid hockey players at all cost. They are psychotic. And don't even bother with the girls on the field hockey team. Gordon found that out when he visited a couple of years ago." A muffled mechanical voice drew Alan's attention. "OK, here is our stop. Let's roll."

Sam and Dean watched as Alan made his way through the crowded T station. Whispering to his brother as they tried to keep up with the fast-moving Alan, Sam said, "What does Jeff Tracy feed his kids? Are they all that take-charge? He does remember we are supposed to be protecting him, right?"

Dean just smiled. The more he knew this kid, the more he liked him. Then thinking of what the oldest brother and his wife had done had him frowning again. Sorry, but someone kidnapping Sam wasn't something Dean was gonna forgive easily.

* * *

Soon Alan's classes were over for the morning. Dean had carefully observed the people Alan interacted with. It was not unheard of, he knew, for someone to summon a spirit in order to attack another person. "Supernatural Hit Men" was Dean's quaint phrase. But if anyone resented or disliked the twenty-one year old, they did not make it obvious. Alan was polite and friendly, active in his classes and freely greeted by students and teachers alike. _God, _he grumbled, _please, just let him pick his nose or something. The kid is too perfect. It's getting annoying._

At the student common, Alan and Sam had ordered sandwiches, while Dean had grabbed a burger. The threesome had secured a remote table and began to discuss Sam's research and Dean's observations. Dean spoke first.

"Dude, doesn't anyone not like you?" Alan frowned at that but before he could say anything, he was cut off by Dean's continued rant. "I mean, c'mon. Nobody is that perfect. Sam, where's the holy water?"

"Dean, Alan is not a demon."

Alan glared at Dean. "I am not perfect. However, I am more than aware that my actions, more than many of my fellow students, have an affect beyond myself. If I act snobby, or mean, or do poorly, it reflects adversely on my family. I was raised to meet certain expectations and I do my best. Does everyone like me? No. Have I ever given most people a reason not to like me? Again, no."

"So, some people might have it in for you?" Dean asked. Sam excitedly picked up the conversation.

"Actually, I found a potential suspect for someone who might be willing and able to summon a spirit. Both the person and the spirit could - probably do - bear grudges against you." Sam pulled out a series of newspaper stories. "Now, Alan, when you were in high school, there was a fellow student named Kyle Wescott." Alan's face quickly became hostile. "Wescott," Sam explained to Dean, "transferred in during their sophomore year. Even though they seemed to have a great deal in common – classes, track team, etc. – Wescott apparently actively disliked Alan. In their senior year, while Alan was at home recovering from a serious illness, Wescott was kicked out of school."

"For what?" Dean asked through a mouthful of burger.

Alan shook his head. God, he had to let Gordon and Dean meet. No, scratch that. Bad idea. Some things are best left unexposed to each other. Like certain dangerous chemicals, Dean and Gordon would be easier to manage if kept far apart.

"He did the unforgiveable. He cheated and got caught. The first was considered acceptable but not the second," Alan recalled with a show of dislike. "Since he had just turned eighteen, Kyle's father threw him out of the house. Told him he was on his own. To make things worse, Mr. Wescott had repeatedly mentioned that I had managed to set a track record while becoming ill, and, even while I was recovering, kept up my grades through satellite classes."

"What was wrong?" Dean asked. "Had the flu?"

"MRSA." Alan's response was muted. Dean looked to his brother for an explanation. Sam picked it up.

"Methicillin-Resistant Staphylococcus Aureus is a strain of staph infection that is resistant to most antibiotics. It can have survival rates as low as thirty percent." The Winchesters looked at Alan, who was now playing with his food.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, your dad said something about you having been sick. That was after the hotel fire."

Alan sucked in his breath. "Yes. The doctors believe that the infection was caused by a head injury I suffered during the fire."

"Just a tragic accident." Sam shrugged. "Right?"

Glaring, Alan shook his head. "No. Kyle Wescott was hiding. When I was alone, after the Thunderbirds had rescued everyone else and while I was waiting my turn, Kyle smashed me on the head and left me to die in a burning building."

"Nice guy," Dean muttered.

"Yeah, a real prince," Alan sniped. "Then during the Senior Luncheon just before graduation, Kyle and two goons tried to take the class and our families hostage for money. He killed the headmaster and then tried to kill me. Kyle is now a permanent guest of the state of Massachusetts."

Sam placed a compassionate hand on Alan's arm before looking over at his brother. "Kyle felt he had a reason. He was the half-brother of Jackson Mitchell."

Dean frowned. "I know that name."

Alan tried to respond but he felt his throat close. Shifting his glance to Sam, he silently pleaded with the younger Winchester for support. Sam picked up the story in order to help him out.

"Mitchell was the guy who kidnapped Alan."

"I was fifteen." Alan's voice softly trembled. "It was Christmas time. Dad had picked me up from school and he had to stop in Manhattan for a meeting. I was waiting for Ann-Marie to take me shopping. I needed to get Dad's present. I…I wanted Christmas to be extra special that year. Some stuff had happened. I…I nearly lost my family." He looked at the Winchesters, who were shocked to see the pain still in Alan's eyes after more than six and a half years.

Sucking in a breath, Alan continued. "I didn't know what the meeting was about. It turned out to be that Jack Mitchell was about to be arrested for treason. He was a software developer for Tracy Enterprises who was going to sell classified software to unfriendly parties. Kate was the FBI agent sent to arrest him. I went out shopping with Ann-Marie. Mitchell approached us on the street. He had a gun and he shoved me into a car trunk." Alan was shaking slightly as he relived that nightmare. "My dad called my brothers. With Kate's help, they saved me."

"And Kate shot Mitchell." Dean quipped.

"Yeah, but not fatally. And to be fair, he shot her first." Alan defended his sister-in-law.

Sam smiled before becoming serious once more. "Yes, but she did kill him the next summer."

Alan became angry. "Yes, she did. But he had taken me hostage after I got done testifying against him. And he was going to shoot Scott. Kate had no choice. He wanted to hurt my family, he did hurt me. I don't like anyone dying but tell me – what would you do to protect someone you love?"

The brothers looked at each other, a depth of emotions crossing between them.

"OK," Dean finally sighed. "Either on his own or with his little brother's help, I say Jackson Mitchell has just become suspect number one in the vengeful spirit category."

* * *

**_a/n - OK, Sammygirl1963 has joked that Alan seemed too perfect. But his family hates the media and Alan knows, as does his brothers, that if you or I do something negative, Mom and Dad might freak. If he does? Ends up on TMX (tabloid TV). Alan has also been through a lot in the last few years (OK, so I am responsible for some of that). He had a choice - mature or go insane. I chose maturity. Easier to right than insanity._**

**_Speaking of insanity, I am updating tonight because I only worked one job. So if you see updates, get responses, get reviews...Yeah, you got it. Only one job that day. But reviews are nice, aren't they? So sweet, so thoughtful...Sigh. Was that over the top? I can never tell. Seriously, review and tell me what ya think. - CC_**


	10. Chapter 10

**Payment in Kind**

**_Disclaimer - see chapter one_**

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

"You know," Alan said as the trio made their way from the campus of Harvard to Alan's job study in Downtown Crossing, "I am still having trouble believing ghosts are real."

"Yes, College Boy," Dean sniped. "Ghosts are real."

Alan shook his head, and then looked concerned. "Um, what about werewolves?"

Sam shrugged. "Yep. They are real as well."

"So are vampires, demons, chupacabras, shape-shifters…" Dean gleefully rattled off before noticing how pale Alan had become. Taking pity on the younger man, he gave him the soft smile he usually reserved for Sam. "But angels are real as well."

Alan smiled in return, the faraway look in his eyes puzzling the Winchesters even as the T pulled into their stop. As they disembarked, Alan softly responded, "Oh, that one I never doubted."

* * *

They entered an office building, where, to the brothers' amazement, no one questioned their right to be here. Piling onto the elevator, Sam waited until the doors closed before asking, "Are they used to people dressed like we are in here? Frankly, Alan, the building looks a bit too high end."

Alan smiled. "Not when the small print on the sign says the building is owned and operated by Tracy Enterprises. The firm takes up the entire fifth floor. I am doing my work study here for this semester."

The doors opened and they were greeted by a sign reading "Tracy Enterprises: Aeronautic and Mechanical Engineering."

Dean looked over at Alan as they walked down the hallway. "I know one of your majors is engineering, but what can you actually do here?"

Alan smiled once more. "I work in Quality Control." At Dean's look of disbelief, he sighed. "Listen, I helped Scott and Virgil design the new jet for the Air Force on my Summer Vacation. I've learned more from osmosis than a lot of these guys would know if they went to school for twenty years."

Sam looked somber. "Anyone here resent that? A college student, even the boss' son, was checking their work?"

Sighing once more, Alan nodded. "Some have. Most of them got over it when I caught an error that could have cost billions in lawsuits and an undetermined loss of life. Why do you ask? I thought you were sure this had something to do with Jackson Mitchell?"

Dean shook his head. "We can't eliminate anything. Now, if this is a summoned spirit, it may be Mitchell's brother. But it could be someone else. Let's check out this place and get Sam looking for where Mitchell is buried."

"Why do you need to know where he's buried?"

"So I can dig him up, salt and burn the remains."

Alan turned back to Dean, his eyes wide and his hand froze on the door that was the main entrance to the Boston office. When Dean just grinned, Alan turned his gaze to Sam. The younger Winchester nodded. "That is how you get rid of a ghost. Salt and burn the remains."

Shaking his head, Alan opened the door but not before the brothers heard him mutter, "Yuck."

* * *

Sam was hunched over his computer in what Alan called the "spare" office. "If someone comes here from another office, they won't dislocate anyone. Dad prefers it, and the office…well, they deal with it." Alan's wry comment made the brothers chuckle. Dean followed Alan to the office he used – one that had a full-time QC person and a small desk area set up for Alan as well.

When the door opened, Sam expected it to be his brother or Alan – or both. Instead a pretty brunette with smiling blue eyes entered. For the life of him, the woman reminded him of someone. "Hi. I'm Mary Ann." Placing a cup of coffee in front of him, she smiled. "I was grabbing a cup and thought you might like one."

Sam took a tentative sip, surprised to find it as he liked it. When he looked up in wonderment, Mary Ann laughed. "I ran into Alan and Dean at the coffee pot. Dean gave me the heads up."

Smiling, Sam took a welcome gulp which he almost spit out when Mary Ann said, "So have you figured out who or what is after Alan?"

"Um, well, I – that is…" Sam stuttering stopped when Mary Ann began to laugh.

"No one told you I am Ann-Marie's niece, did they?"

Sam smiled and relaxed. That she was the niece of Jeff Tracy's long-trusted secretary explained her knowledge of the family's goings on.

"Well, I suspect it has something to do with Jackson Mitchell."

Mary Ann's face hardened. "That bastard? Didn't he hurt this family enough when he was alive?"

Sam shook his head. "Vengeful spirits see themselves as the wronged party. Sometimes they are. A man is murdered? A woman driven to suicide? You can see why they can't move on, accept their death. They want justice. As I understand it, Mitchell was an egomaniac who always blamed others for his own shortcomings. Even though Mitchell was killed by Kate when she was trying to protect Alan and Scott, he would still see himself as the victim. And how to better hurt the entire family than going after Alan again."

At the end of Sam's explanation, Alan and Dean walked in. The glare Alan had shot Dean over his shoulder made Sam chuckle. Big brother was obviously taking his "protecting" duties seriously. As the recipient of that for years, Sam could sympathize. But Alan was just gonna have to suck it up and deal with it.

"Hi, Mary Ann. Everything OK in here?" Dean flirted with the woman, who smiled and Alan smirked.

"Hey, Dean. Did I mention Mary Ann used to play field hockey?"

Dean frowned. "Um, you mean, uh…"

Mary Ann smiled broadly. "I play for the other team. Paula and I have been together since college. My aunt is cool with it. The rest of the family – not so much. It's one of the reasons I came to work out East. Paula flies out of Logan for American."

"Any straight women in this city?" Dean grumbled.

The others in the room started to laugh but Alan and Mary Ann froze when another woman entered. A dark-haired woman with cold blue eyes smiled possessively at Alan. "Alan," she purred, leaning forward, attempting to show off her cleavage. Alan looked unimpressed while Mary Ann looked as if she could cheerfully rip the other woman's head off.

"And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Judy?" Mary Ann sniped.

The woman's lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. "I believe I have made myself clear, my name is Judith." Smiling at the men in the room, she directed her next words to the Winchesters. "Judith Cofrell. I have the pleasure of working here."

Alan looked singularly unimpressed and actually somewhat annoyed. "Judith? Was there something in particular you wanted?"

Judith's viper-like smile matched her slither-like movements as she walked up to Alan. "Alan, dear, I just signed for a package for you. It's on my desk, if you wouldn't mind stopping by for it?"

Alan tried to answer, only for Sam to speak up. "Actually, Alan is helping us on a project. Maybe you could handle it for him?"

Nodding, Alan gave a small smile. "Yeah, anything that comes here is business. Dad would give me a heads up if there was anything else and anything personal would come to my place."

Pulling herself back, Judith nodded. "Yes. You live in such a nice neighborhood. You must get so lonely with your girlfriend away. If you ever would like some company…?"

With a small smile – and a slight shudder – Alan shook his head. "Um, no thanks. I'm pretty busy. School, here and um, friends…ya know."

Judith strolled out of the office, tossing a smile over her shoulder. Mary Ann rounded on Alan as soon as the door shut behind the woman. "Alan, why the hell don't you tell that little slut to keep her legs shut and her hands to herself? You could slap that bitch with a charge of sexual harassment and get her tossed out on her trampy ass."

Alan shrugged. "I just figure if I ignore her…"

"Yeah, like that has worked real well on the little bitch." Mary Ann's snipe just made Alan even more uncomfortable.

"So, Alan, Judith, um…" Sam started only for Mary Ann to interrupt.

"Cofrell, which I always assumed was an abbreviation for co-worker from Hell."

Dean snickered as Sam continued. "So, has she been, um, pursuing you for long?"

Alan shook his head, muttering, "She really doesn't mean anything…" only for Mary Ann to interrupt again.

"Oh, please, Alan. If you gave her the slightest bit of encouragement, that tramp would have you stripped and mounted in less than a minute."

Blushing, Alan tried to say something only to shut his mouth sharply. Finally, he answered with a sigh. "I love Tin-Tin, and I don't believe, well, in casual sex."

Dean shrugged. "So, it's only been, well, your girlfriend." Alan muttered something which drew the brothers' attention. "Huh? Say what?"

Grimacing, Alan looked up, defiant. "I said, Tin and I took the pledge – no sex until marriage. And while we told our parents to make them feel better about us being together – unsupervised - so far from home, we did it for ourselves. We want to make love, not have sex. We love each other and have no need to "explore". And yes, I have taken enough cold showers to flood the Charles River, OK? But it's my choice."

The Winchesters looked at each other, Dean ready to make a snarky comment only to swallow it in the blaze of Sam's glare. Sam smiled at Alan. "Hey, you love your girl. I know how that feels. And something like that is a personal choice. No one should make you feel bad about that. But do you think Judith could be angry enough to be involved in this? A woman scorned and all that?"

Alan looked shocked, but Dean spoke up. "It's not unheard of, Alan. She wants you, you don't want her. She decides if she can't have you, you may as well be dead."

Mary Ann shook her head. "No, Judith is enough of a bitch to do that but she is a more hands on type. Besides, she sees herself as irresistible to men. She thinks that with enough time she can get to Alan."

"Nothing personal, Alan, but you don't seem that irresistible to women." Dean's comment removed the blush from Alan's face, replaced by a grimace.

"The name is probably the biggest turn-on." Alan shrugged, continuing. "I've had it happen since I started college."

"Not in high school?" Dean joked.

Alan and Mary Ann laughed. "Dean, I went to an all-boys boarding school. If anyone was interested in me sexually, they kept it to themselves."

Before anyone could respond further, there was a bone-chilling scream filling the offices. Alan leapt up, running through the door. Dean and Sam were hard-pressed, but did manage to keep up with him. Hurrying through the hallways, the trio forced themselves through the crowd that was blocking the doorway.

The sight on the floor almost caused even the hardened hunters to swallow back their lunches. Alan knelt next to Judith Cofrell on the floor, feeling for a pulse. "Call the police," he huskily said to Mary Ann as she entered the office.

"Someone already called for an ambulance," a voice spoke up from the crowd.

Alan shook his head. "No. Too late for that." Looking down at the burned face, he gulped. He had seen horrible sights when on rescues for the Thunderbirds. But he had never seen someone with their eyes burned out, with blood streaked down her once pretty face.

While Alan sat in horror next to the woman's body, Sam motioned to Dean. The package near Judith's outstretched hand - with Alan's name still partly visible on the outside – was burnt. But it was the demonic-looking icon on the floor that Sam nudged out of the way, hiding it behind a potted plant. That was something that Boston's finest might have some trouble understanding.

* * *

**_A/N - OK, Judith is not a real person. HOWEVER - the name was not a coincidence. When grumbling about annoying co-workers (or cow-workers, as I like to phrase it) one day, Sam1 was getting particullary annoyed by one co-worker. So I promised to do in the co-worker in for my next story. Was that good enough girl or do you still need that order of lyme for body disposal? (Man, if anyone ever read our e-mails...)_**

**_Oh, and no implication of sexual orientation for field hockey players. IT IS A JOKE AND ONE THAT IS REPEATEDLY SAID TO ME BY A FIELD HOCKEY PLAYER!!! And no, to that certain someone who PM'd me. I am not promoting certain orientations. But I prefer to judge people by their character. What someone does behinds closed doors is their business as long as it does not break state or federal statutes. Frankly, I don't EVER want to have to picture other people in certain personal activities. Yes, Sam1 - a certain brother's reactions are based on my own._**

**_So, please review. I once more would like to thank you for your patience as I am not responding to reviews as quickly as I would like. I am still working that seasonal job and my regular one. So since reviews are the only rewards we receive here...Please??? A quick thanks to the regular reviewers, the occasional reviewers, Sam1 for her awesome smart-aleck comments (I wish I could include those with the chapters) and Sammygirl1963 who is da best!!! (But Supernatural writers already knew that, right?) More soon...CC_**


	11. Chapter 11

**Payment in Kind**

**_Disclaimer - see chapter one_**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

Alan walked, visibly shaken, as they made their way back into the condo. The sun had long set – though being the time of year it was in Boston, that wasn't as late as it could be. Alan and the rest of the staff had been questioned for more than two hours. During a break in questioning, Alan had called his father. Jeff Tracy had immediately closed the Boston office for the next three days, so as to make the facilities available for the crime scene investigators.

The Winchesters had been explained – and dismissed – as friends of Alan's older brothers. Alan had sat there patiently as the investigators' prodded over and over, asking if he "knew of anyone who wanted to hurt him" or if he had any enemies. Thinking of Jackson Mitchell, as well as one other person, he honestly said, "I can't think of anyone alive who would want to hurt me."

Sam and Dean watched Alan in concern as the younger man flopped down, listless on the couch. Usually bright blue eyes were dull with anxiety and guilt. "She's dead because of me, isn't she?"

Dean looked over at his younger brother before Sam sighed and reached for his laptop. Sam had started his research on the object while Alan was with the police. He had wanted to begin a conversation with Alan on the ride home but a "thoughtful" member of the Boston P.D. had put a full-stop to that when he insisted on giving them a ride home. The Winchesters had been glad for the extra protection provided to Alan on the way back to the condo but would have rather not been in the back of a squad car. It was something they had experienced once too often.

"Actually, Alan, I conferred with Bobby," at Alan's puzzled look, Sam added, "he's a friend of ours. If its supernatural, Bobby knows it."

"And what does Bobby say about the McDonald Happy Meal Toy from Hell?" Dean asked.

"That idol is a punisher," Sam responded.

"Like the guy from the comic books?" Dean snarked. "Sweet."

Alan and Sam mutually glared as the younger Winchester continued. "Actually, this particular one was used by a now extinct American Indian tribe, the Massabesics. The idol, it was believed, when placed in the hands of a sinner, would bring the wrath of the Great Spirit down upon the wrongdoer. So this may have been addressed to you but unless you have sinned…"

Dean interrupted, "What, Mr. Goody Two-Shoes here? What did he do that was so bad? Forget to put the lid back on the toothpaste? Not put his soda can in the recyclable container? Or maybe…"

"THAT IS IT!!!" Alan roared. "I am so sick of you claiming I am this perfect little ass! Well, I am not! I work hard, get good grades and try not to give my family anything to worry about. So sue me! You may be used to dealing with every last scrap of scum of the Earth, but some of us are trying to make the world a better place to live. Some of us still have hope that there is something worth saving in humanity. You don't wanna help me find out who thinks I am worth killing; you think I deserve to die? Well, look behind you and find the door. Like my Grandma Tracy used to say, don't let it hit ya where the good Lord split ya!" With that Alan stormed out of the room, leaving the stunned Winchesters in his wake.

"OK," Dean finally spoke after more than a minute of silence. "So he does have a flaw." At Sam's questioning look, he shrugged. "That kid has a _major_ temper when pressed."

* * *

Alan sprawled on his bed, curled into a pillow. He had left his laptop beside the vid-phone in the living room. Frankly, he just didn't have the energy to deal with the Winchesters. Man, he just felt like curling up and crying into his pillow like he was a little kid. Holding back the tears of anger, frustration – yes, and of fear - was wearing Alan out. His eyes had begun to droop when he heard a faint beeping sound.

Pressing a small button on the side of his watch, Alan allowed himself a quick smile at the sight of his only other blonde Tracy brother. John's bright blue eyes were shadowed with the depth of his emotions. "Allie," he sighed in relief. "Dad filled me in on what happened. How are you doing, Sprout?"

Alan pulled the pillow closer, taking a deep breath before answering. "I'll be OK, Johnny – and don't call me Sprout." Closing his eyes for a moment, he reopened them, confronting his brother with the obvious fear and anxiety. "Dad shouldn't have bugged you up on Five. I'll be OK."

From his duty station on-board Thunderbird Five, the communications hub of International Rescue was a space station high in the sky, the second Tracy son watched his baby brother trying to hold it together. "Allie, look at me." Alan raised his face, blue eyes met blue eyes, both filled with pain, anxiety and confusion. "Allie, you don't deserve what is happening to you. The Winchesters will find out what is happening. Just follow their lead. I know it's not easy to give up control to someone else – hell, it's not easy for any Tracy to just sit back and let someone _within_ the family take charge, let's not begin to discuss letting someone _outside _the family rule. But this is out of our league. Who knows, maybe in a few months or so, the Winchesters can be caught in an earthquake and we'll have to save their butts."

Alan chuckled, cracking, "Can I pull Dean out, accidently bumping his head as we go?"

John joined his brother in his laughter. "Just don't let Sarah or Virgil catch you. You know the medics of the team hate extra work." As the laughter faded, John grew serious. "Allie, please be careful. I don't know…I mean, if we lost you…"

Ducking his head, Alan shrugged. "You'd all be OK. I mean, there are four other sons and you have Em and the kids, Scott and Virg are the same. Gordon and Julie look fated for each other…You'd be OK."

Shaking his head, John's eyes glistened suspiciously. "No, Sprout, we wouldn't be. We…well, we need you. So follow the Winchesters' lead and come home to us." Clearing his throat, John changed the subject. "Hey, my publisher called the other day."

Alan looked confused. "I thought your last astronomy book was already put to bed?"

John grinned. "It has been. But did you know he oversees the science fact and science fiction division of his publishing house?" Alan's blush made his older brother laugh. "So, I take it no one else knows?" A matching grin now matched the younger Tracy's face. "Your first full-length novel. Man, are the elders gonna bust a gut! Dad will be calling everyone in his Blackberry! I'm so proud of you, Al."

Alan smiled. "You should be proud of yourself, too, John." It was now John's turn to look confused. "From the time I was a baby, you were always the one to show me the stars. And you were the one to get me hooked on reading sci-fi, so it was inevitable I would start to write it."

Swallowing several times to rid himself of the lump in his throat, John finally smiled once more at his youngest brother. "Love you, Allie. Take care of yourself, OK?"

Alan nodded, signing off with his older brother reluctantly. Pulling himself up off the bed, Alan went to the window. Looking up at the clear night sky, he gave a small smile. If you knew where to look, you could see where Thunderbird Five was in the night sky. Invisible to radar or other satellites, the reflection was there. And to the northeast of it was the star John had discovered and named for their late mother. Watching the heavens for a moment longer, Alan felt the comfort he had always enjoyed when being watched over by his family.

* * *

Sam was alone, Dean having run over to the other condo to get "supplies" for the night. He raised his head, alert, when Alan's bedroom door opened. Sam did his best to ignore the redness to the younger man's eyes. "Hey, Alan."

Alan gave a half-hearted smile. "Hey, Sam. Sorry I lost it there."

"Yeah, well, Dean can be a bit of a jerk sometimes." Sam tried to pretend he hadn't seen Alan mouth _"A bit?"_ "But Dean's basically a good guy. Our lives have never been easy but the last few years have been especially tough. And Dean has been given reason to only trust a few people in his life. So, well, sometimes your family seems to have it easier and…I'm not explaining this very well am I?"

Shrugging, Alan sat on a stool at the breakfast bar, grabbing two apples and tossing one to Sam. They each took a bite before Alan asked, "What got you two started in ghostbusting?"

Sam laughed as he swallowed another bite of fruit. "Guess you could call it the family business. I always thought we were second generation hunters – that's what we're called, hunters. But Dean recently discovered that our maternal grandparents were hunters as well. They were killed by a demon. And, well, that's when it gets complicated. To make it more of a cliff notes version, the demon later returned when I was six months old, killing our mother. Mom had tried not to let her pre-picket fence life be tainted by when she hunted with her parents, but I guess you just can't escape the past. Dad managed to grab me and thrust me into Dean's arms. Dean wasn't quite five. My brother carried me from our burning house. Dad got out too, but…He knew what he had seen. He finally met a psychic who told him it had been a demon that had killed mom. Dad spent the next two decades hunting the demon down, destroying every supernatural thing he could along the way."

"So your Dad is a hunter, too?" Alan asked.

The apple froze next to Sam's mouth. As he lowered it back down, he was glad Dean was still gone. "He was. The demon killed him more than two years ago."

"Are you guys looking for the demon now?"

"Nope," Sam said in bitter satisfaction. "He's dead. Dean destroyed him a year after Dad died." Sam sighed. "But…well, things happen. Dean and I keep hunting evil, doing our best. Yet it seems no matter how many things we stop, more innocents die, more suffering…Sometimes I wonder if we are doing any good."

"You can't save everyone." At Sam's puzzled look, Alan gave a small smile as he picked up a picture of his family. Placing a finger under his father's face, Alan explained. "My dad told me that once. He said, "_You can't save everyone, Alan. It doesn't matter how hard you try or how brave you are. It doesn't even matter if it's someone you love, someone you would give your life in a second to save, you just can't save everyone."_ He was talking about my mom. I know that is one of the reasons we had problems for years. I…well, I look like her. A lot. And I guess I act a lot like her as well. That made it hard for my dad. He not only wanted to protect me as his baby, but Dad always felt that if since he couldn't save Mom he had to keep me safe."

"How'd that work out?"

Alan snorted. "Before or after regular role-plays of every war known to man?" Sam chuckled. It sounded like Alan and his father had once had a relationship similar to the one he had "enjoyed" with John Winchester. "But…well, something happened. The same year I was kidnapped. There was a…an incident during Spring Break. An accident. I almost lost my family. We were forced to think about the close call we had. I guess you sometimes get a second chance. And we took it. Thank God. In the end, we realized – we could handle anything as long as we did it as a family."

Sam smiled, thinking of his own complicated family life. Yes, it had been complex and often difficult. But like Alan, he knew what was truly of value. You could handle anything as long as you had family.

Any further conversation was halted with Dean's return. "Hey, Sammy, Bobby just called…" Dean froze as he saw Alan. "Um, hi…"

Alan walked up to Dean and stuck out his hand. "Let's try this again. Hi, my name is Alan and I need some help in dealing with some kind of supernatural thingy. Might be a ghost, not sure."

Dean tried not to laugh, which was made oddly easier by Sam's wide grin. "OK. I'm Dean Winchester, and it sounds like something right up me and my brother's alley. Right, Samantha?"

Sam glared before muttering, "Jerk."

"Bitch."

Alan shook his head. He really did have to keep Gordon away from Dean.

**_A/N - OK, so Alan finally lost it, Dean really got it and the boys are starting over. And for some reason, no one is upset about what I did to Judith. I guess we all know a COFRELL, right?_**

**_I am getting super busy, between Holiday expectations, two jobs and now I feel lousy. Hoping a good night's sleep helps. Will keep trying to write but made need itsy bitsy push...So...reviews? Make me happy? Encourage the mad genius within? (Or is that Sammygirl1963? Hmmm.) - CC _**


	12. Chapter 12

**Payment in Kind**

**_Disclaimer - For an even dozen, see chapter one..._**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

"OK," Sam mused. "First things, first. We need to find out who sent the punisher idol to Alan."

Dean nodded, then asked his sibling, "Hey, what name did you give the cops at the office?"

Sam raised his eyes to his brother, stiffening. "Me? I thought you talked to the cops?"

Alan was already making himself comfortable in front of the computer. "I told the cops that you were Dean and Sam Winchester, friends of my brothers, Scott and Virgil. I also said that you had been traveling and you decided to stop in Boston for a while to catch up. That I had been having some issues and you offered to look into it based on your friendship with the Tracy family."

"And they bought it?" Dean asked, incredulous. "They didn't run our names?"

Turning a puzzled look at the brothers, Alan shrugged. "Of course they did. Nice clean records. Concealed carry permits signed off on and a security note from Tracy Enterprises. It's why they didn't ask if I wanted police protection, they assumed my family had hired you."

Sam slowly turned back to Dean. "Whoa. Kate Tracy said she could plant the virus. I just…well, I…"

Dean looked at Alan. "OK, are you telling me an _Ex_-FBI agent has that kind of access to their main computer? That says a lot for National Security, doesn't it?"

Alan shrugged. "Well, Kate does handle a lot of the government contracts. Either that or she just went to visit her father."

"Her father?" Sam inquired; a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Grinning, Alan focused on his laptop. "Yeah, her father is the Director of the FBI. And I wouldn't be surprised if she had told him. I remember at Sarah and Virgil's wedding, she said something about "cookies from the dark side"." He shook his head, looking pensive before returning his attention to the computer. "Sometimes, the Elders make little to no sense."

Sam grabbed a chair, pulling up next to Alan. "So what are you looking for, anyhow? I was already able to determine that Jackson Mitchell was buried next to his father in Providence, Rhode Island."

Not looking up, Alan responded. "I wanted to see if the authorities have any early information on the incident at the office. Ah, here we go. Preliminary results from the medical examiner's office." Looking up, he smiled at the shocked looks on the brothers' faces. "By the way, I am a bit of a hacker. Actually, I am a _very _good hacker. Not bad for a goody-two-shoes, huh, Dean?"

If it wasn't for the seriousness of the situation, Sam would have laughed at the look on his older brother's face. Dean wasn't often taken by surprise, but he definitely was this time. Just who was Alan Tracy, anyhow?

* * *

Back on Tracy Island, the family had showered and changed following a rescue in the Middle East. The debriefing was in full swing when Emily awkwardly rose to her feet in order to check on her daughter and the other children being watched over by Kyrano in the smaller house she shared with John. Maneuvering through the kitchen, Emily smiled and nodded at the instruction from Onaha that lunch would be in a few hours.

Emily entered her home, quietly waving to Kyrano in an attempt for her daughter, Elizabeth, not to notice her while the older man read a story to Jason and his cousin. Michael and DJ were sleeping soundly in Elizabeth's room. Emily started to mouth "_lunchtime_" to Kyrano when black spots began to dance in front of her eyes. Seeinh her clutching desperately at the door frame, Kyrano took note of her distress and sent the older children in to rest with their younger counterparts until lunch. As the alarm on her blood pressure monitor began to squeal, Emily barely noticed as Kyrano grabbed her, holding her gently in his arms as he lowered her to the floor. She never heard Sarah or Virgil arrive and begin to immediately treat her. Emily was unaware of Dad ordering Scott to fire up Thunderbird Three to retrieve John from the space station – which would have to be placed on automatic for a time – or Kate rushing to get Tracy One prepped for an emergency flight to Auckland. The newest Tracy was on its way, but from the frantic care being given, the survival of both mother and child was in doubt.

* * *

"Ooh. Gross." Alan muttered.

"What is it, Alan?" Sam asked, pulling a chair closer while Dean stood by, cleaning a shotgun.

"OK, according to the preliminary ME's report, Judith Cofrell's blood vessels all burst at the same time in her skull. The resulting failure appeared to be the reason for a disruption in her cerebral cortex, allowing for a raised body temperature in an area restricted to her cranium."

Seeing Alan and Sam's mutual looks of disgust, Dean finally jumped into the silence. "Hey, how about an English translation for the rest of us?"

Sam and Alan looked at each other once more before Sam told his brother, "The blood in her cranium boiled or overheated. Basically, her brain melted."

Dean set down the shotgun and leaned heavily onto the nearby couch. Staring at the two younger men in shocked silence, he finally summed up all their thoughts.

"Oh, man. That is just plain gross."

* * *

After reading the medical examiner's preliminary report – Dean chuckled at the head examiner's commentary of _"Go back and review the results. This is not a Freddy Krueger movie script." – _Alan abruptly got up to get a cup of coffee. When he failed to return after a few minutes, Dean got up to check on him while Sam called Bobby to check on a few more facts about the punisher idol.

Dean stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching Alan silently for a moment. The youngest of the Tracy Brothers was standing by a single cup coffee maker, clutching desperately at the counter. At first, Dean didn't think Alan even knew he was there. That illusion was shattered when Alan spoke.

"Do you think I deserve this, Dean?"

Moving closer, Dean shook his head. "No, kid, I can't say you do. OK, so you are a bit too straight and narrow for my comfort, but most people who seem good on the outside are usually some of the biggest sinners you would ever meet. But they have most of the world snowed so if there is ever justice, it's not on this Earth. You? Far as I can tell about you, kid, is that you walk the walk and talk the talk. You really do believe in that Golden Rule stuff, don't ya?"

Alan smiled slightly. "My father raised us to believe that we truly are our brothers' keepers. If we don't try to make the world a better place, it will only get worse. But if we can help a hundred people, maybe ten will be inspired to help someone else in turn."

Typically cynical, Dean shook his head. "So you help a hundred. And only ten more get helped after that. What's that get you?"

Smiling wider, Alan was more relaxed as he responded. "A hundred and ten people whose lives are better because someone cared enough to help."

Cocking his head, Dean gave the twenty-one year old an appraising look before surprising Alan with a smile of approval. He looked like he wanted to say something when Sam burst into the kitchen.

"Dean! Alan! Bobby found something. Seems that particular idol was part of a private collection. It was "obtained" a few months back by someone representing an anonymous buyer. Seems it was one of Bela's last capers before the Hellhounds got her." Dean looked intrigued while Alan looked appalled.

"Hellhounds?" he whispered faintly. "Like the ones that seek out and punish people? They are real, too?"

Both brothers paled, with Dean's hands subconsciously moving over his stomach and chest, as if feeling for scars that weren't there. "Yeah," Dean muttered. "They are real."

* * *

**_A/N - Yeah, it has been, what...a week? But the mall hours got extended, I am still working my main job, trying to get everything ready for Christmas, we had a major ice storm (I never lost power but had friends and family did so...guess who had to help.) and...aw, hell, I also had some writer's block. But I am getting back into the swing. So, enjoy and review...PLEASE!!! - CC_**


	13. Chapter 13

**Payment in Kind**

**_Disclaimer - see chapter one_**

**

* * *

**

Chapter Thirteen

Alan looked at the Winchester Brothers, concern clearly written on his face. "Hey, are you two alright?"

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, with Dean quickly shaking his head. Alan Tracy was a good kid. There were some things that hid in the darkness that good people should never have to know about. Then again, there was so much Dean wished Sam had never known about either. But once those doors of bitter knowledge are opened and their poisoned fruit are revealed, the doors can never be shut again and we are damned by the sorrowful wisdom. He couldn't protect Sam from the knowledge of just how bad the shadows were. But Dean would be damned – again – if he forced that knowledge on a kid like Alan.

Swallowing the bile that had raised in his throat at the memory of the demon dogs ripping his brother to shreds in front of him, Sam forced a smile onto his face. "Yeah, Alan, we're fine. Hell hounds are just…well; they are creepy, aren't they? I really wouldn't even want to think about them if possible."

Turning his gaze from Winchester to the other, Alan shook his head. _Yeah,_ _sure, it's nothing. And I know nothing about the Thunderbirds._

* * *

Returning to the living room, Alan pulled back out his laptop and entered the data that Bobby Singer had gotten for the Winchesters. "Hey, who is this guy Bobby?"

Alan was almost surprised at the softened expressions that crossed the brothers' faces. Dean turned a chair around and sat down, crossing his arms across the back and resting his chin on his wrists. "Bobby Singer is a hunter. No one – not even geek boy here – is as good at research as Bobby. He's no blood kin to us, but…well, Bobby is practically a father to both of us."

Smiling in return, Alan nodded. He had people in his life who were like that. Lady Penelope, Parker, Brain and Fermat, Tin-Tin's parents…none were blood kin, but you could never tell from the way they treated the Tracys.

Shaking themselves free from the memories, they once more tackled the problem at hand. "OK," Alan said, "what is the name of the person who bought the idol from your friend…"

Dean interrupted harshly, growling, "Bela was no friend of anyone except maybe Bela."

Sam quickly interjected, "Bela sold the idol to a James Saba, an attorney here in Boston."

Alan looked puzzled. "That name sounds familiar." He began to enter data, as Sam watched over Alan's shoulder. The younger Winchester looked puzzled. He had never seen a search program like this…"OK," Alan continued. "I am entering known data on James Saba and cross-referencing it with any member of my family."

"Why your family?" Dean asked.

"Because," Sam suggested, "someone may be targeting Alan, but it could be revenge against a member of his family. And if Saba purchased the idol the path begins with him but ends with Alan."

Nodding in understanding, Dean moved his hand in a languid motion. "OK, you can continue."

Screwing up his face, Alan refocused his attention on the screen, muttering, "Gee, thanks. May I?"

Sam tried not to chuckle at the annoyed look on his brother's face. Alan Tracy gave as good as he got. Sam knew that it was a necessary survival skill in his own family and he was sure that it was no different for Alan. He was about to say something, when Alan suddenly sucked in his breath and stood abruptly. The younger man pushed back his chair, not seeming to even notice as it fell back onto the carpeted floor with a muted clatter. "Alan? What is it?"

Standing by the window, Alan looked out into the night, staring blindly at something in his own mind. "I think we can be sure that the ghost is Jackson Mitchell and that he has been summoned by his half brother." Turning back to the brothers, Alan bitterly continued. "James Saba used to practice law in New York. He was Mitchell's attorney at my kidnapping trial. He moved to Boston five years ago and was hired almost two years ago for a murderer who had previously been represented by another attorney. The prisoner had been unable to afford the kind of high power representation that Saba would be considered. But his parents, from who he had been estranged, had died in a car accident. His father had disowned him but he died first. The mother had never gotten around to disowning her son – so he got the money upon her death, which happened thirty minutes after her spouse. All the motions and appeals filed on his client's behalf have failed but Saba is still a regular visitor and is on retainer for "any and all business" for his client."

Sam had begun to review the data Alan had uncovered even as the young blonde man turned back to stare out the window. He glanced over his shoulder, watching Alan in concern before looking back at Dean. "James Saba works for Kyle Wescott."

Nodding, Dean stood, patting Alan's arm. "Hey, kid. It's late. What say we hit the rack and tomorrow I'll head to Providence to burn Mitchell's bones? Wescott won't be able to sic his big boney brother on you once I do that."

Alan nodded tightly, only to walk into the bedroom without a word. Sam watched him leave, before turning concerned eyes to Dean. "He doesn't deserve this, Dean."

"Nope," Dean agreed, "he doesn't. So like I said, tomorrow I will head to Rhode Island to take care of the ghost and you keep watch on the kid. So far all of the attacks have happened at night, but let's not take any chances. Keep him in a safe locale after dark until I give you the all-clear and don't let him out of your sight for a second. And that is at any time of the day."

Sam nodded, turning to the smaller second bedroom where he had slept the night before. He could hear Dean snap open a blanket and make himself comfortable on the sofa even as he shut the bedroom door behind him. After kicking off his boots and socks, Sam shucked off his jeans and shirt before crawling into bed. Before he turned off the light, Sam looked at the picture that hung above the unlit fireplace. The painting depicted the five Tracy sons, smiling and happy. Sam silently vowed to make sure that they remained that way. Turning off the light, Sam drifted off. Sleep had almost claimed him as a random thought filtered through his mind. _Why do the clouds dotting the blue sky in the background look so odd?_

* * *

Years earlier, Emily Haas had been an Emergency Medicine Specialist at Mercy General Hospital in Auckland, New Zealand. Tracy Island – by the average commercial jet – was almost forty minutes north of the city. Tracy One, the elite personal jet designed and owned by the Tracys, made that trip in almost half the time. As the family was met at the airstrip next to the hospital, the young doctor was quickly loaded into an ambulance and whisked off to an emergency c-section.

By the time the surgery was over, all the adults in the family – with the exception of Alan – were gathered in the private waiting room that the chief of staff had secured for them. Jeff Tracy had waited anxiously for his two oldest sons to arrive. When John had ran through the doors, his face paler than any of them had ever seen, Jeff immediately went to his second son and pulled him into his arms.

"D-Dad? Have…have they said anything yet? Emmy? Is…Oh, God, Dad…she has to be OK? I can't…I just can't…"

Jeff hugged his son closer before helping him over to a couch. Sitting next to John, Jeff bitterly recalled saying over and over words much the same when Lucy was killed in the avalanche. To his eternal sorrow, Jeff had spent the next three years wallowing in guilt and anguish. His sons had paid the price, being practically raised by his parents during that time. But Jeff's father, Grant, had been ill himself and his mother, Ruth, had spent a great deal of that time caring for her husband. In many ways, the boys had raised themselves for a time. In what Scott referred to as "The Tracy Way", each older boy had cared for the younger ones, with most of the focus on a three-year-old Alan. It was in their precious baby brother that the others found their strength. If John lost Emily today, would he find strength in his daughter, Elizabeth and his new baby – if that child survived – or would he bury himself in his work, like his father had? Or…no, John would not do anything else. The rest of the family would be there for him. They would close ranks as they always had and pick up the slack for each other in any way necessary.

Before Jeff could try and find the words to comfort his son – if such words were even possible – Emily's doctor, Dr. Christian Alberts, an obstetrician specializing in high-risk pregnancies, entered the room. Crossing immediately to John, he barely acknowledged the remainder of the Tracy family gathered there.

"Mr. Tracy…" Dr. Alberts gave a small smile as he amended that to "John" - no doubt recalling how on previous meeting John had insisted on a first name basis, assuring the doctor it would be much less confusing with all the "Mr. Tracys" there were.

"John, we were forced to do an emergency c-section. Your son is doing well. His lungs are good but to be on the safe side we have activated the NICU. The neo-natal intensive care unit can monitor the baby better than a regular nursery. The baby…"

"Keith." John interrupted. "His name is Keith David Tracy."

Dr. Alberts nodded, knowing the father needed to reclaim some identity for his son – and some control for himself. "We'll keep Keith there for a few days. But he should be fine. I'll have Dr. Meadows talk to you as soon as she is available. She's the pediatrician overseeing Keith's care."

"And Em?" asked a shaky Kate, her brown eyes red from the tears she had fought back for hours. Her husband, returned from his ferrying of his brother back from space, put a comforting arm around her and she leaned in, anxious for the comfort he gave.

Pulling in a deep breath, Dr. Alberts looked over the anxious family before refocusing on John. "I have to be honest with you, John. We lost Emily once on the table. But that little gal is quite the fighter. We got her back. We'll be moving her up to the ICU soon. I'm having a cot placed in the corner. I know you won't want to leave her if possible. I am, however, charging the rest of the family with making sure you eat and sleep. One of them can stay with her while you do so." If the situation wasn't so serious, Alberts would have laughed at the way every Tracy present nodded in agreement. "I am bending the rules for the ICU John, only because I know how much strength Emily draws from her family. And she needs that strength now more than ever. But no making yourself sick either, you hear?"

John nodded shakily. Dr. Alberts gave him a small smile. "Emily is one of the strongest people I have ever known. If anyone can fight this, it will be her." With that thought, and the assurance that he would send a nurse to fetch John as soon as Emily was settled in her room, the doctor left.

"Dad?" Gordon's voice, uncharacteristically small and shaky, was heard in the silence left in the doctor's wake. When his father turned to him, the red-head asked, "Do we tell Al?"

It was Sarah who spoke up instead of the Tracy patriarch. "Not yet. Let's wait twenty-four hours. In cases like this, you can usually tell what will happen by then. And Alan doesn't need the added pressure of this right now or the uncertainty. Let's just give it some time."

The family nodded in agreement but before anyone else could say anything, the promised nurse arrived and John followed her anxious to get to his beloved wife. And the Tracys settled in to do the thing they as group had never done well – wait helplessly on the sidelines.

* * *

Dean Winchester sat up abruptly. Looking at the watch he had on the coffee table in front of him, he rolled off of the couch. He could have sworn…It was in the pre-dawn hours of another day in Boston. But Alan had said he was foregoing his morning run. While running had usually helped him, the pounding headache he had gone to bed with had only made him crave sleep. Standing up, Dean sniffed the air around him. Lavender? What, was the kid into aromatherapy?

The hairs on the back of Dean's neck began to stand on edge. An energy seemed to fill the air with an other worldly pulse. Picking up his EMF meter, Dean became concerned at the sudden spike in energy. Moving towards Alan's door, Dean froze at a noise. Looking towards the room where Sam had been sleeping, Dean relaxed when he saw his brother emerge, weapon in hand. Slowly moving towards Alan's room, Dean pressed a hand on the door, gently pushing it inwards.

A woman knelt near Alan's bed, softly brushing back a stray lock from his forehead. Alan turned towards the touch, whispering "Mama" before settling back to sleep. The beautiful blonde – who both brothers recognized from the picture in Jeff Tracy's office – gave a small kiss to the sleeping young man's head before fading away.

Immediately, the EMF meter began to read only the slightest trace of spectral energy. The scent of lavender, which had been so strong, faded rapidly. The brothers backed out of the room, pulling the door shut behind them.

"OK," Sam said softly. "That was not the spirit that attacked me in the street. That was…I mean, Dean…"

Dean smiled gently. "You know, Sammy, I don't think we are the only ones trying to help protect Alan. I think Mama Tracy is still looking out for her baby."

Sam smiled in return, now not so surprised that Alan had survived the earlier attacks. The youngest Tracy had mentioned how it had seemed as if he had been "lucky", such as waking suddenly the night of the kitchen fire by a book that had been on his nightstand falling to the floor. Yeah, Dean was right. Alan did have some help. But it was still up to the Winchesters to stop whatever dark force was trying to have Alan join his mother.

**_A/N - Luckily, Dean now knows that not all supernatural things are evil. Lucy Tracy (Alan's mother) was a frequent guest star in my stories. I adore the idea that love never really dies, that we never really leave those who love us most. But it looks like they are hunting down the people responsible...Or are they?_**

**_Thanks as always to Sammygirl1963, who has been such an awesome beta and cheerleader for this story. I am still working both jobs (and the mall has extended hours now...ACK!!!) so I am trying to squeeze this in the best I can. Reviews are the inspiration to we writers...(and yeah, I will catch up on my reviewing soon, I promise.) Thanks for reading...CC_**


	14. Chapter 14

**Payment in Kind**

**Disclaimer - see chapter one**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

Alan awoke to the sun streaming into his bedroom. Blinking away the fuzziness that had settled in his mind while sleeping, he smiled slightly before sitting up abruptly. _Damn! It was a school day. He hadn't planned on going on his morning run but…damn! He had classes today!_

Leaping out of bed, Alan grabbed the robe he rarely used – unless he had visitors other than his brothers, who were used to his nighttime fashions of boxers and a t-shirt – and ran out of the bedroom. He stopped cold at the sight of Sam Winchester sitting at the breakfast bar, sipping on a coffee and reading a copy of USA Today.

"Hey!" Alan exclaimed. "I must have forgotten to set my alarm last night. I mean, I remembered to change it from my morning run time, but I forgot…"

"You didn't forget," Sam interrupted, not even looking up from the paper. "I turned it off. You needed your sleep."

"What I need," Alan responded angrily, "is to get to my classes. I have semester finals coming up."

Sam turned a page before folding the paper and setting it down. "I contacted your professors; they will be e-mailing your work to you. Three out of five also expressed their concern for you. The Dean's office also expressed their relief that you wouldn't be in today. The media is already snooping around Harvard since the incident made the news last night. Your address is unknown thanks to Sarah keeping this property in her maiden name. So you should be OK here for now."

Alan plopped down on a stool next to Sam, sighing deeply as he folded his arms and rested his head on the counter. "Damn. When is Dean heading out to toast Mitchell? 'Cause I want my freakin' life back and soon."

Smiling and patting Alan on the back, Sam rose and moved into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, "Dean left about ten minutes ago. He'll have enough time to stake out the cemetery before sundown. It, well, it just isn't very practical to dig up corpses and set them on fire during the daylight hours." Walking back in, he smiled once more. "I just started a coffee for you. I gotta say, these pastries are great. Where do you get them from? I didn't see any packaging from the bakery."

Alan chuckled. "You wouldn't. The recipe is by Onaha, our housekeeper. Also known as my future mother-in-law, she is a great cook. Don't tell Dean, but they are also low-fat and low-sodium."

Sam grabbed another pastry, taking another big bite as he retrieved the cup of coffee for Alan. Watching the younger man add cream and Splenda to the brew, Sam leaned forward. "So your mother-in-law to be sends you baked goods? Nice deal."

Relaxing a bit, Alan grinned. "Actually, she does some times. But these I made. I enjoy cooking. Growing up, I used to spend a lot of time with Onaha. Like I said, it is her recipe." Biting into a deceptively delectable pastry, Alan sobered up. "Um, do me a favor. Do NOT mention it to either my brothers or your brother."

Chuckling, Sam snagged another treat. "As long as you send us on our way with some of these, you will have purchased my silence."

Picking up their mugs, Alan and Sam clinked them together, a small conspiracy of silence in the tradition of younger siblings everywhere.

* * *

John Tracy sat by his wife's bedside, clutching desperately at her hand. "Emmy, please, I need you. Elizabeth…our Little Bit…she keeps ask Onaha when Mommy is coming home. She is trying to be the big girl. Onaha…I heard her telling Kate how Elizabeth keeps trying to help her and Kyrano, especially when they are…they finished getting the nursery ready for Keith. Did I tell you what Jason and Little Bit did? They got on the web, printed out some designs for star systems and put them on the ceiling. We still aren't sure how they got them up there. Virgil says he will paint them there when he makes a run back there. Says…He said you would love to have a "Star Boy" to go with your "Star Man". I didn't even know my family knew your nickname for me. Guess we need to be more discreet, huh?"

Kate watched her brother-in-law trying to talk his wife into waking up. She had always liked Emily. They had first met when the young physician was dating Kate's cousin, Edward. When Emily's high-society mother had interfered, it had broken the couple up, sending Emily off to New Zealand. She had been working in this very hospital when Alan, the only family member Kate could reach when she had gone into labor with Jason, had rushed into the facility. Emily had taken off with Alan, delivering the first Tracy grandchild shortly thereafter. Within a week, she had met and married John. The rest was now all part of the family's history.

"You can come in, Kate." Kate almost jumped at John's comment. Smiling, she walked over to her brother-in-law.

"John, you have to take a break. Go get a bite to eat. And the pediatrician was telling Dad that Keith can take a bottle soon. Maybe you would like to be there?" When John looked torn, wanting to be with his new son but reluctant to leave his wife. Placing a hand on his arm, Kate gave a quick squeeze. "John, I'll stay with Em. I won't leave my little sister alone, I promise." John stood, hugging Kate before bending down to kiss his wife.

"I'll be back in ten minutes, Emmy."

"He'll be back in thirty, Em." John tried to glare at Kate but he couldn't find a look to intimidate his sister-in-law. Giving up, he left the room to find his son.

Kate sighed as she pulled the still warm seat closer to Emily's bed. "Hey, Em. Looks like it's just us girls for a bit." She tried to ignore the wobble in her voice; Kate knew Emily would have. "I heard you and Sarah last month. How you said that I am the strong one, the one who pulls the family together. Oh, Em…I wish you could see what I do. You and John, you are so much the quiet strength of the Tracys. We lean on you, confide in you…Heck, Scott and I am more likely to come out swinging. But you…" Tears choked Kate's throat as she leaned her head over to rest by Emily's. "Please, Em. Please…I need my little sister."

In her pain and fear, Kate never noticed that among the tears that fell freely from her eyes onto Emily's pillow that a couple of the droplets did not come from her face.

* * *

Dean had made good time. He pulled into the church yard next to the cemetery that was the final resting place of Jackson Mitchell. Getting out of his car, he quietly cut through a patch of trees before coming upon the fencing surrounding the graveyard. Making sure no one saw him, Dean cut the wire, slowly rolling it back to the edge. Once in the cemetery, Dean re-positioned the fencing so it was not easily noticeable.

Walking quickly down the leafy paths, colorful oak and maple leaves dotted the old path, Dean noted that many of the graves in that area were well-tended. Some had small flags left over from Veteran's Day. Many had pre-Christmas floral tributes. But not this one…

Tucked into a corner, a huge oak tree shading the spot, Dean read the names on the stone. "John Mitchell, Judith Mitchell, Peter Mitchell, Jackson Mitchell…Grandparent, dad and Jackson. OK…" Dean crouched down, checking out the plot. Although the plot had been given only the most basic of care – probably from a cemetery maintenance worker – Dean could still tell the newest plot. "Got you, you bastard. I'll be seeing you tonight. I'll bring the gas and matches, you bring the marshmallows."

Dean stood, whirling around…only to almost run into a red-haired woman. "Visiting a loved one, dear?" The slight British accent grated on him. It wasn't that he didn't like British women…Hell, he just liked women in general. But there was something about _this_ woman…

"Um, no. I was told my dad's family was buried here, but the names and dates don't match. Gotta go talk to someone about this." Dean hurried off, failing to notice the hate-filled glare being sent his way. The cold eyes burned into his back before the woman hurried away. If Dean was here, then only one of the Winchesters was protecting Alan Tracy. There may never be a better chance.

* * *

Sam had spent most of the day quietly watching a movie or reading a book – Alan had some good ones and they had surprisingly similar tastes. On the other hand, after Sam had shot down the idea of Alan rushing up to either A) confront Kyle Wescott with what he had done or B) confront Kyle and break his nose – one being impractical and sadly, due to prison security, the second being impossible – Alan had thrown himself into his studies. With the exception of a late lunch of shrimp stir-fry, the twenty-one-year-old had rarely lifted his head from his texts and laptop.

The sun had begun to set when Sam realized that Alan had cleared off his workspace, putting away his books and computer. But it was only when Alan pulled his coat from the closet that Sam became alarmed. "Alan, I know this is frustrating, but I need you to stay here."

Alan continued to get ready to go out, looking straight at Sam as he did so. "This is my night to volunteer at the shelter. I do this every week. And I am doing it tonight."

"Do you have a death wish?" Sam asked in a raised voice.

Shaking his head, Alan pulled out Sam's coat and offered it to him. "No, I do not. But I gave my word. My father taught me that a man is not judged by what he says he will do but what he has done. I am not sick, I am not injured and they need me to be there. So I am going. Sam, you are here and I am grateful. You and Dean will be leaving when this is over. But I will have to live with myself, now and in the future. And if I let these people down when they have so little to begin with is something I can't do."

Sam grabbed the proffered garment and pulled it on. He almost smiled while he followed the younger man out the door. Alan was stubborn enough to be a Winchester…Sam could only hope he never had to deal with the Tracys en masse. Sam was so busy trying to watch for dangers that he barely took note of the woman who peeked out of the door of the condo on the other side of Alan's. It was the first time Sam had seen Alan's other neighbor. He knew from what Alan had said that she was a medical student who also put in hours at Boston Medical Center. Alan called her the perfect neighbor, as between school and her time at the hospital; she was rarely home except to sleep.

A bad feeling washed over Sam and he turned back only to see the door to the other condo was now closed. He worried he was being paranoid but quickly accepted that in his job, paranoia was a survival skill. Sam hurried his pace seeing Alan beginning to cross the street to the "T" station. With his focus on the young blonde, Sam failed to notice the malevolent glare being sent at them from a window in the building they had just left.

**_A/N - Dean is on the trail...but have they missed something? Sam and Alan seem OK. And it's not like I would ever do anything mean or cruel, right? I updated, through the more than a foot and a half of snow in the last 72 hours, plus working at least one job each day (with the occasional two a day). So...REVIEW! If I get enough reviews, I will update on Christmas. If I don't...I still might. Chapter fifteen is nearly finished, I wrote it to satisfy some twisted yearnings of Jean (Sammygirl1963)...But it was all she asked for as a Christmas present, so gosh golly...I just had to! - CC_**


	15. Chapter 15

**Payment in Kind**

**_Disclaimer - See chapter one_**

**Chapter Fifteen**

**_A/N - Merry Christmas to all my fan fic family! This chapter is especially dedicated to sammygirl1963 who requested the contents within as all she wanted for Christmas. Hope you enjoy your present. I am sitting here, sipping on spiked hot chocolate (tequila liqueur - Rosa Blanca {strawberry} makes for a nice cup of cocoa) and plotting out what to do to the boys next. Enjoy the chapter._**

* * *

Sam and Alan entered a non-descript building not far from downtown Boston. Immediately upon entering, people of all ages began to shout out greetings, one after another, to Alan. The blonde smiled and waved, stopping for the occasional hug or to pick up a small child and toss them into the air. The out-pouring of love directed at Alan was a tangible thing, hanging in the air and blanketing everyone.

"He has that kind of reaction on everyone." Sam whirled around to find Mary Ann standing behind him. She smiled and continued. "Alan makes people feel better. He isn't here as often as he would like to be, but everyone at the shelter knows Alan does what he can to help. Several of us from the office now volunteer here and many of the other volunteers are students or faculty from Harvard."

"How did Alan get involved in all this?" Sam asked, curious.

"I think I can answer that," an Asian man, somewhere in his early thirties, approached Sam and Mary Ann. The woman smiled at him.

"Hi, Reverend Abbott. I need to go finish the books. I'll leave Sam to you." With a smile and a wave, the woman left the pair.

Sam turned his attention to the other man. "Is this a good story or should I grab a book?" he asked, slightly flippant. _"Huh," _he thought._ "I must be channeling Dean a bit these days."_

The minister smiled once more. "Nothing fancy. Just a few years ago, when Alan first started at Harvard, he would go running every morning. One morning he tripped - literally - over a homeless man – Joshua. That's Joshua there," Abbot pointed out a middle aged African-American man who was busy cleaning up after the evening meal. "Joshua now works at a local diner but he comes back here to help out. Cooks on his days off. Sometimes even on days he works. Many of our staff once lived here."

Reverend Abbott walked over to a closet and pulled out a blanket, heading towards a woman who had wrapped her own thin coat around her child as they sat on an old couch, a shell-shocked look still on her face. The aforementioned Joshua came forward, handing the woman a coffee and the little boy warm chocolate milk. The man then kneeled in front of the pair, speaking gently, his every action filled with compassion. Seeing that the situation was well in hand, Reverend Abbott turned back to Sam.

"Alan came back to check on Joshua and found out me virtually pulling out my hair. I knew what it was like to be homeless. My father had abandoned my mother and the two of us were soon out on the streets. My mother died there and I was turned over to social services. But I got lucky. When I was seven, I was adopted by the foster parents who had taken me in. They were former missionaries. My parents totally supported my dream of becoming a minister when I grew up and I knew all along what I wanted to do. I wanted to make a safe haven here from the streets. But…well, some young minister, opening up a shelter, with no government or corporate funding? I was an unknown, and no one wants to back a dark horse, do they?" The man moved towards a coffee pot and poured two cups, handing one to Sam. As they added cream and sugar, Sam spoke up.

"Well, you seem to be OK now."

Reverend Abbott shook his head. "We were three blocks from here, in a building half the size and in desperate need of repair. Alan's sister-in-law, Emily, who works very closely with the Tracy Family Charitable Trust, came out here at Alan's request. She reviewed my mission and goals, and then told me two things – one they would be happy to add us to their funded charities and that we needed a bigger location. Dr. Tracy is amazing. She swoops in, strong-armed and sweet-talked businesses, other charities and even government officials. Within two months, the mission was relocated to this spot, and we were ready to go. The Trust keeps an eye on things but for the most part…well we aren't the dark horse any more. As busy as I keep with this, I love it. Good thing too, Alan keeps directing people here. But he also helps set up community efforts, finding low-cost housing and jobs for these people. Most of these people just need a chance."

"Hey, Reverend." Alan's voice cheerfully broke in at this moment. Holding up a tool box, he nodded to a man beside him. "Miguel and I are heading down to finish the work on the hot water heater. It may take a couple of hours, but this way it won't break down when you try and finish the breakfast dishes."

"Yeah, Rev," Miguel cheerfully chimed in. "Just wait until I finish my HVAC training. I'll be able to help with the repairs. Least I could do after what this place has done for me."

"Uh, Alan, are you sure you'll be OK?" Sam asked, nervous.

Alan shook his head. "Hey, Virg and I installed the heating system. This should be fairly simple, just a bit time consuming."

"Al-wan?" All of the men turned at the sound of a tiny voice. Several young children stood nearby, looking at the young blonde man expectantly. "Al-wan, is it story time now?

Bending down on one knee, Alan smiled at the little red-headed girl. "Hey, Sonya. I can't tonight, I have to fix something. But," he continued, ignoring the disappointed sounds and faces, "I have brought a pinch-hitter for you. This," he gestured to Sam, "is my friend, Sam. Now Sam here is a master story teller. So head over to the mats, Joshua will have some hot chocolate and cookies for you and Sam is coming over to read to you."

"Um, Alan, I, uh…" Alan grinned wickedly at Sam's half-hearted protests.

"Now, Sam, they don't bite. Well, Charlie might. Just keep him in your line of sight; he likes to attack from behind. The books are piled on the table next to the recliner in the play area. Start with "Chicka, Chicka, Boom, Boom", finish with "The Night Before Christmas" and use your discretion for anything in between. Seuss is always good but if you know any regular fairy tales that can work as well." Alan gave a gentle shove to Sam's back. Two small children ran up and after a nod from Alan, they grabbed Sam's hands and pulled him into the play area.

Alan and Miguel left as Reverend Abbot continued to watch Sam. The younger Winchester sat down, pawing though the books piled high on the low table. Joshua was making his way over, a tray heavy with hot chocolate and a plate of sugar cookies. "Huh," he grunted. "Alan pull in another volunteer with the "just read to the kids for a little bit" lure?" The minister only grinned as Joshua eventually returned the smile and continued on to the children's area.

* * *

Dean waited for the security to make its patrol. After sundown, the security company would patrol once an hour until midnight, then every ninety minutes until sunrise. Dean had secured the shovel and other supplies in the graveyard already. All he had to do was wait, take care of business and Alan Tracy would be safe.

* * *

Bobby Singer couldn't explain why he had a bag packed and ready. He couldn't explain why he had booked a flight to Boston. He couldn't explain why he was heading out when the boys should have everything well in hand. All he knew was that no one on this Earth loved John Winchester's boys as much as he did, maybe even more than John had when he was alive. Unlike John, his love was completely unconditional. And it was with this love that he knew, just knew, that he was gonna be needed. Dean and Sam were Bobby's boys even if there was no genetic tie. He would never say there was no blood tie. Bobby was tied to the Winchester Boys through blood, sweat and tears. And it was time to be in the place he wanted most to be – wherever his boys needed him.

* * *

Jeff Tracy watched as his second son sat by the bedside of his far too silent wife. It was a terrifying flashback to the day he lost the love of his life. And Emily was such a sweet, gentle, soul. Much like her husband. Not that they both didn't have tempers when pushed. Clearing his throat, he got his son's attention.

"John, I have someone who wanted to visit." John turned expectantly, wondering who it could be as his father wouldn't bother to introduce family. A gentle smile popped onto his face at the sight of his son held closely by his father.

"Hey, Keith. How you doing, baby boy?" Rising, John took his newborn son into his arms.

Brushing one hand over the head of his newest grandson and clutching the shoulder of his second son, Jeff spoke quietly. "The doctors said if Emily continues to improve, they will move her out of ICU shortly. Then Keith can be with her – and you – full time. But for now, why don't you introduce this little guy to his Mama?"

Smiling, John walked back to his wife's bedside. Careful of the machines attached to Emily, John gently laid Keith next to his mother. In a soft voice, little more than a whisper, John continued to talk to both his wife and son. Jeff had to swallow the lump in his throat at the sight. _"Oh, Lucy," _he prayed. _"I hope I am doing alright by them. I know I am doing my best but I keep being afraid my best is not enough. Stay with us, Lucy. Please." _A gentle scent of lavender seemed to fill the air and Jeff smiled. _"Thank you, darling. I should have known you would be here."_

* * *

Dean had dug down revealing the casket that was the last resting place of Jackson Mitchell. Prying it open, he leaned back at the sight of the partially decayed remains. Pushing down the temptation to spit in the face of a human monster who had terrorized an innocent kid both in life and now in death, Dean climbed out of the grave and grabbed the can of gas and the salt. Liberally sprinkling the salt over the casket's content, Dean tossed down the container and popped open the can of gas. Pouring it over the remains, he glared at Mitchell, muttering, "Burn in Hell, you son of a bitch. And make sure you save a place for your baby brother." Throwing down the empty gas can, Dean lit a match and threw it in. As the flames lit up the Mitchell Family plot, the elder Winchester smiled in bitter satisfaction. "End of the line." Pulling out his cell phone, he hit the first number on his speed dial.

"Sammy, tell Alan it's a done deal. Mitchell is nothin' but dust in the wind." Closing the phone back up, Dean leaned back against a tree, waiting for the flames to die down and confirm that the remains were destroyed. Once everything was in place, Dean would head on out, north to Boston and back to his little brother. _"Maybe," _he thought, "_we should give in to Bobby and head to his place for Christmas. The world can wait forty-eight hours while we have some good grub and a warm, clean bed. Maybe even a few Christmas Carols just to make Sammy happy."_

Dean began to sing to the tune of "Frosty the Snowman" as he edged closer to the flames for warmth more than anything.

"Oh Mitchell the bad guy, was a very naughty boy. So I got some gas and a simple match and his bones I did destroy. Mitchell the loser, is gonna get it in the end. He was bad in life now he'll go to Hell and be some demon's _special friend_."

* * *

Sam's phone had rung just as he was finishing up the last story. Sleepy children had begun to be collected by their anxious care-takers, many who had stood on the peripheries while Sam had read story after story.

Story time, he had been assured, was a weekly event. Alan, or a designated substitute, would gather all the children with hot chocolate in cold weather and lemon-aid in warm weather, with a cookie each, as they were read to. He could understand why it was a highlight for so many at this place. In a world where reality was all too bitterly known, a bit of fancy and fantasy would be a welcome relief.

Pocketing his phone, Sam looked around the mission. He spotted Reverend Abbott and was about to ask the man if he had seen Alan yet when he saw the object of his search emerge from the kitchen area. Alan was wiping his hands on a towel. Smiling at Miguel and thanking him for his time. Seeing Sam, he waved at his helper and moved towards the younger Winchester.

"So, how was story time?" Alan asked with a grin.

"Fine," Sam responded blandly. "By the way, Dean just called." Alan froze, as Sam continued. "He said to tell you that the issue has been resolved." Alan visibly relaxed and looked Sam directly in the eye. Seeing the calm and steady look directed at him, Alan let out a long sigh. Smiling, he clapped Sam on the back.

"Hey, what do you say we grab some Mexican on the way back? I know this great little hole in the wall joint that makes some killer enchiladas." Sam almost laughed. Alan shrugged at the look on his face. "Hey, we Tracys love to eat. And while I have no problem cooking for myself, I have to admit, I have found the best places to eat in Boston. Not the most pricey and most my father wouldn't be caught dead in, but…Well, I am allowed to act like just another college student until May, right?"

Sam did laugh now, caught up in the sheer exuberance that was Alan Tracy. Grabbing both of their coats, tossing one to Alan, who grinned as Sam began to pull on his own. People began to call out farewells, only now it was to Sam as well as Alan. The warmth that enveloped him, knowing that he had, in some way, touched the people here, was addictive.

Alan was off to the side, talking to Mary Ann, who was nodding and taking notes. Reverend Abbott approached Sam, pointing to Alan with his chin.

"He won't be long. Alan and Mary Ann have been coordinating Christmas." At Sam's puzzled look, the man of the cloth chuckled lightly. "They have been working with different groups. Books, toys, food, even warm clothing, all donated. It will be the high point of the year for some people." Looking at Sam inquisitively, Abbott surprised him with his next question. "Are you one of John Winchester's boys?"

"Um, yeah, he was my father." At the past tense Sam used, Reverend Abbott looked saddened.

"He's gone, isn't he?" When Sam nodded, the minister sighed and continued. "I'll be honest with you, Sam. My adopted parents? They weren't _exactly_ missionaries. They were hunters who saved me after my birth mother was killed by a nest of vampires. Your dad did several hunts with them. One time when Dad was hurt, John brought him back. He talked about you and Dean to me. John was so proud of his boys. You were such a good student, and a great researcher. Dean was a natural hunter, and John said what a great team you and your brother made. But…he was afraid. Said that as smart as you were, he was afraid you would leave, head off to college."

"And he would lose his researcher?" Sam asked, bitterly.

Abbott looked surprised. "No. John was afraid if you left, he couldn't protect you. And he was afraid if anything ever happened to you, Dean would become reckless. Said if they lost you, Dean would soon follow. John said he wasn't the world's best father, but…well, anyone could see how much he loved you both."

Sam gave a small smile. Yeah, Dad had loved them. In John's own screwed-up fashion, he had loved both boys. "And your parents?"

Sadness took over the minister. "Believe it or not, Mom suffered a cerebral aneurism. She was gone in minutes. Dad went out taking down a poltergeist of all things. Frankly, I always believed it was just his way of joining Mom." Clapping Sam on the shoulder, he smiled. "Take care of yourself, Sam Winchester. May God walk beside you always."

Sam smiled again as he approached Alan, pulling the younger man out. "C'mon Alan, I am _starved._"

Alan shook his head. "You channeling my brother, Scott?"

Laughing, Sam held open the door as Alan walked through. Joining him on the sidewalk, Sam shook his head. "And here I thought I was channeling Dean. All that would be needed was for me to ask for pie."

"Really? Cause Scott loves pie. Especially apple pie."

The two younger brothers began to talk and laugh, comparing older brothers. Sam became increasingly glad he only had the one to deal with.

Suddenly, a coldness filled the air that had nothing to do with the weather. "Sam? Something feels..." Alan's words were cut of as the younger man was picked up and flung into a parked car. As Sam dashed to his rescue, he suddenly felt himself lifted off the ground. Almost three feet in the air, Sam felt a tightening of his throat. It was like he was being choked to death. Desperate, he looked towards Alan.

Alan had managed to make it to his feet, even if he was shaken and in obvious pain. To the mutual horror of both young men, the evil presence became corporal. An Asian man, dressed in gaudy red robes, glared malevolently at Alan.

"For the sins of your entire family, Alan Tracy…DIE!" Alan had moved to strike, only to find himself in the same position as Sam, dangling helplessly mid-air, his air being cut off.

Somewhere in the distance, Sam heard a disturbance approaching them. But it was the look of pain, fear and horror on Alan's face that was his focus. And worse, the look of recognition. Sam had seen a picture of Jackson Mitchell. _This_ was not him. But whoever it was, it was obvious that Alan knew who it was and that he had no doubt that it was someone who wanted him dead. Suddenly, Sam and Alan dropped to the ground. Before they could regain their breath, Sam found himself flung into the same car Alan had been thrown at earlier. Looking up, dazed, from the street where he had rolled, Sam watch in horror as Alan was thrown into the brick wall of a nearby building. As he lost his tenuous grip of reality, Sam prayed for Alan to show some sign of life as he lay on the sidewalk, blood on his face.

Sam's prayers went unanswered as the world went dark.

* * *

**_a/n {2} - OK, was that your Christmas present, Jean. I hope you enjoyed it and I will do my best to update early next week. I was off this afternoon, but I was so tired...I barely made it to church and then to my parents. But I have tomorrow off (and work both jobs Friday) so I hope to get sixteen way under way and off to my betas. _**

**_In all seriousness, I am not about to beg for reviews. Instead, I would like to extend all the blessing of Christmas upon you and yours. No matter what your faith or nationality, I hope the joy of this time of year finds its way into your life. Merry Christmas - CC_**


	16. Chapter 16

**Payment in Kind**

**_Disclaimer - Story, see chapter one. Song - "I'll Be" belongs to the lovely and talented Reba McEntire_**

**Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

Sarah Woodbury Tracy stood outside of the new room that her sister-in-law, Emily, had been moved to less than an hour earlier. Trying not to disturb the rest of the family, Sarah waited until she had Kate's attention. With a slight nod, the older woman tapped her husband's and father-in-law's arms. The men followed Kate to the hallway, pulling the door partially shut behind them.

"Dad, Kate, Scott, I have to go to Boston." Sarah spoke urgently, her anxiety creeping into her voice.

Kate worried her lower lip before speaking directly to Sarah. "Sar, I know you are worried about Alan. We all are. But we agreed to the plan and…"

Sarah interrupted, "No, Kate. It's not Alan. Well, not directly. Tasha Whittimore, the med student I rented the condo on the opposite side of Alan's – not the one the Winchester were supposed to use – she…well, she was found dead. In fact, the police said she was murdered."

Scott frowned but responded bluntly. "That is a tragedy, Sarah, but not one we can do much about. It's a matter for the authorities, right?"

Raising her chin, Sarah looked her brother-in-law in the eye. "Scott, it seems someone called the condo when Tasha failed to show at her job. The person answering said they were Tasha's cousin – and Tasha had no blood relatives - and that she was ill. A problem with her throat. Obviously, this was a sick person, because when Tasha was found, her throat had been slit".

"Do you…I mean, this couldn't have anything to do with Alan, right?" Jeff asked, his voice husky with concern.

Her lips tight, Sarah responded, "I pray not." Sucking in her breath, Sarah sighed deeply. "Anyhow, as her landlord, I need to take care of a few things."

Jeff nodded tightly before returning to the room. Getting ready to enter, he smiled slightly at Sarah. "Tell Alan we love him, OK?"

Scott and Kate snickered before Sarah's glare – a rarity from the woman – silenced them both. Sarah then waited until Jeff was fully in the room before addressing the siblings Alan referred to – along with Jeff – as "the elders". "I spoke with one of the investigating officers. The preliminary reports are indicating that Tasha was either dead or soon would be by the time of the phone call. Initial inquiries are that someone was living in the condo until shortly before the police arrived. Food delivery, mail and paper collected; someone was trying to make sure that it appeared that Tasha was still living there. That the police will want to talk to Alan is the best case scenario. Given what has been happening and what the Winchesters suspect, worst case scenario…"

As Sarah's voice trailed off, Kate spoke up, her eyes hard. "Worst case, someone murdered your tenant in order to get into a position to harm Alan. Maybe I should go."

Sarah smiled tightly, anger burning in her green eyes. "No, Kate. You can't shoot anyone. And I may not always be the one to come out fighting but I have loved that boy since he was a baby. And the devil himself would have to fight me to get to him." Sarah walked away, anxious to get to Tracy One and be on her way to Boston.

Scott shook his head as he watched his middle brother's wife take off. Turning to his own wife, he put his arm around her shoulder and whispered, "With the Winchesters involved, does she realize that could be a possibility?"

Kate's eyes danced with sudden merriment. Whoever was behind this didn't know what was about to hit them. A pissed off Sarah was a dangerous thing. And nobody hurt Sarah's Baby Thunderbird. _Huh. That could be Alan or the car._

* * *

Dean Winchester pulled up in front of the condos. To his consternation, police cars with flashing lights sat in front of the building. Leaping out of the Impala, Dean ran towards the building, only to be stopped by a uniformed officer.

"OK, buddy, that is as far as you go. This is a crime scene." The man's thick Back Bay accent grated on Dean's raw nerves.

"Listen _buddy, _I live here. My kid brother was supposed to be with our neighbor."

A plain-clothes detective approached the sparring pair, his badge gleaming from his belt. Looking at a picture in his hand, the man spoke to Dean. "Funny, you don't look like a Tracy."

Dean snatched the framed picture – a copy of the one from Kate Tracy's desk – out of the man's hand. "That would probably be because the name is Winchester. My brother is a friend of Virgil Tracy and I know Scott." Well, at least that part was the truth. Didn't like the dude, but… "Sam was hanging with Alan Tracy today. Kid had a bad experience yesterday and we promised his family we would keep an eye on him. What…Were they in there?"

The detective shook his head. "No. In fact, we wanted to talk to Alan Tracy and the other condo resident…Um, but the name isn't Winchester."

'We are subletting for a month. We're…researchers." At the cop's raised eyebrow, Dean shrugged. "Well, more Sam than me. Ask Kate or Sarah Tracy."

The man's expression was hard. "Oh, I assure you, I will. Now, have you seen or heard anything from the other condo in the time you have been staying here?"

Dean shook his head. "Nope. But according to Alan, that is normal. She – hell, I don't even know what her name is. Anyhow, Alan said she is usually at school or work. Nice and quiet."

"Yeah, dead people are like that." It was Dean's turn to raise an eyebrow. The detective continued. "She was found dead, the body was dumped in China Town. But according to evidence in the condo, she was killed here. Mind if we check out your condo?"

"Got a warrant?"

"No, but I can get one."

Dean knew he was just being an ass. Alan had shown the Winchesters a hidden room in their condo. The Winchesters had secured their weapons there. Sam had been fascinated to learn that each condo had a secret room and that they interconnected, the house having once been a stop on the Underground Railroad. Where runaway slaves had once hidden in hopes of escaping to freedom in Canada, the Winchester currently hid their armory. Randomly, Dean wondered what - if anything - was hidden in Alan's room.

Pulling out his cell phone, Dean glared at the cop. "Let me know if that happens. And I will let the Tracys know that you have already been in Alan's since I know that picture was on the kid's coffee table." Hitting the speed dial, he frowned when the call went to Sam's voice mail. Disconnecting, Dean was about to dial Alan's cell when his own rang.

"Hello?" Dean froze at the strange voice on the other end. It reminded him of the official sounding voices sadly used to giving bad news.

"Yes, is this Dean Winchester?" Dean couldn't recall responding but he must have as the woman continued. "This is Heather Lewis from Mass General Hospital. We admitted a Samuel Winchester a short while ago."

Climbing back into the Impala, Dean clutched the phone and shot out questions. "Is he OK? Was Alan with him? What the hell happened?"

"I'm afraid I don't know, sir. Will you be coming here?"

"Of course I am coming. That's my brother. Where the hell else would I be?" _Dumbass_ _twit,_ Dean snarled mentally as he pulled away from the curb, tires squealing. As if anyone had to ask if he would be there for Sammy. Dean was so focused on getting to his baby brother that he never noticed the police detective staring at him strangely as he drove off into the night.

* * *

Bobby Singer had landed at Logan International Airport and pulled out his cell phone as he tried to reach Sam or Dean. Dean's phone rang busy while Sam's went to voice mail. Bobby was cursing his luck – wondering now how to try to figure out where to find the semi-concealed location of a young man who was the son of one of the richest men in the world – when a television at the edge of an airport bar caught his attention with its broadcast.

"This is Sunny Daye for New England Cable News. Tonight in Boston, the generosity of two young people was met with a brutal response. Two young men, both reportedly Harvard students, were leaving this downtown homeless shelter where they were volunteering, assisting the less fortunate of the city, when they were viciously assaulted. Residents of the shelter ran to their assistance, chasing off the attackers. The motive for the assault and other details are still unknown at this time. Both young men have been rushed to Mass General Hospital. Their identities are being withheld pending notification of their families." Looking around, the bottle blonde edged closed to the crime scene, making sure the blood on the sidewalk was clearly visible. Smugly satisfied with the results, Sunny smiled into the camera, signing off with, "More details as they become available. This is Sunny Daye for NECN."

Bobby never even heard the woman's final words. He was running out the automatic doors and hailing a cab. He didn't know how, but he knew one of the hurt boys was Sam. Dean was supposed to be doing the salt and burn tonight, but Sam was shadowing Alan Tracy. And when Bobby had spoken to Sam earlier, the younger Winchester had said they were on their way to a shelter where Alan was a volunteer. Not to mention, if there was trouble to be found, there was a Winchester. And if a Winchester was hurt…well, it was probably Sam.

* * *

Sam groaned as he began to force his way to the surface, feeling as if he was swimming through mud. "D-Dean?" he whispered, his throat feeling like he had been gargling glass. Forcing his eyes open, he quickly snapped them shut once more as the light burned his eyes.

"Try to open your eyes again. I dimmed the lights." Sam heard the soft spoken voice and let it sooth his anxiety – to a point. Dean tended to be the one who usually made Sam feel better when he was sick or hurt. A lifetime of experience, he supposed. "Please, I have been betting on green eyes but most of the ER says with that hair you'd have brown ones." Sam let his eyes open a crack, looking up into a pair of bright violet eyes. Seeing that the room really did only have dimmed light, Sam opened his eyes a bit wider. A nurse with the most striking eyes outside of Hollywood and dark brown hair smiled at him.

"Ha. I win. Green eyes." Leaning over, she raised his bed slightly. "I'm Liz Naylor and before you ask, you are at Mass General Hospital." Taking a damp cloth, she wiped at Sam's face. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Sam…Um, Sam Winchester." It felt off to readily be using his own name, but it also felt pretty damn good. Memories flooded back to him. Story time, leaving the mission, laughing with…ALAN!

"Alan! I was with another guy, his name is Alan. Last thing I can remember was seeing him on the sidewalk, blood all over his face. God, he has to be OK. Please, is he OK?"

Liz did her best to calm the agitated young man. "We are taking care of Alan, don't worry about that. Last time I checked, he was getting a full series. Neck, head, back…He was smacked around pretty well. How many…" Liz shook her head. "No, the police will want to talk to you about it."

Sam looked puzzled. "You know Alan?" The nurse had spoken of the younger man with too much familiarity.

Smiling, Liz tucked a blanket around Sam. "Yes. When he was ill back in high school, he was brought here because we could treat him better than the hospital in Springfield. And his sister-in-law was a paramedic. Most of her runs ended here as her fire station wasn't far from here. And of course, one of the grandchildren was born here when one of the sisters-in-law went into labor during Woody's wedding."

"Woody?"

Liz chuckled. "Sarah's maiden name was Woodbury. The guys in her fire house – and eventually most of the emergency workers of Boston – took to calling her Woody. I guess that is how many of us still think of her."

Before Sam could respond, he heard a familiar roar.

"No, I will not wait out here! My little brother is in here and I want to see him now!"

Sam smiled slightly before reaching out for Liz. "Please, will you get my brother? I promise to lay back and be a good little patient if you do." Looking up at the nurse, he unwittingly applied the puppy dog eyes that had always worked on Dean – and almost everyone they had ever known. Liz was as susceptible as all of them.

"OK, I'll get…" Liz paused, realizing she didn't know the brother's name.

"Dean. His name is Dean." As the nurse left, Sam sighed. Dean would make sure Alan was protected. He could only hope that Dean wasn't too disappointed in him for failing to protect Alan.

* * *

A red-headed woman approached the information desk located closest to the Emergency Department. "Hello. I'm here about my brother. His name is Sam Winchester. He and my cousin, Alan Tracy, were brought in a little while ago."

Before the volunteer at the desk could say anything, a nurse tapped her on the shoulder and shook her head. The nurse then looked the woman up and down, frowning the entire time. "So, you are Alan Tracy's cousin?"

The woman nodded but before she could say anything the nurse continued. "See, because my husband used to be Sarah Tracy's – that's Alan's sister-in-law, she married his middle brother, Virgil – partner back when she was a paramedic with the Boston Fire Department. Virgil used to talk about his family but not half as much as Sarah would. Sarah grew up with the Tracys. And she said that Mr. Tracy was an only child and Mrs. Tracy had been an orphan." The woman looked to say something and the nurse – whose badge identified her as Frannie Tomlinson – went on, leaning menacingly near the red-head. "And don't even try a second cousin. Like I said – an orphan with no extended family and Mr. Tracy's father was an only child and Mrs. Tracy was a twin…" Before the woman could pop in, Frannie continued once more, "Whose twin brother died at nineteen in an accident. No children." Stepping back, Frannie looked at the woman much as she would a flaming bag of dog poop – with disgust and contempt – and coldly stated, "So, I don't know what media outlet you represent but get the hell out of this hospital and leave Alan alone. I am sure a member of his family will be arriving soon and they have the art of over-protectiveness down to a fine science. If I were you, I'd be gone before they get here."

Nodding to a security guard nearby, the man walked over and escorted the woman to the door. Smiling coldly, Frannie nodded in satisfaction. When she had discovered the identity of one of the young men from that horrible incident, Frannie had taken it upon herself to call the Tracys. Their housekeeper, who she remembered from Sarah's wedding, had told her what was happening to the family with Emily and the baby, but that Sarah was coming out due to some issue with the death of a tenant at a rental property. They agreed that since Sarah was on her way, the best thing to do was leave a message for Sarah at Logan Airport. There was no point in upsetting her while flying but this way she would know to come straight to the hospital. And heaven help anyone stupid enough to try and hurt Sarah's "Baby" when the woman was around. If there was one thing that infuriated the usually mild-tempered woman, it was someone hurting her family.

* * *

Dean burst into the room, moving immediately to his brother's side. Raking his eyes over Sam's bruised and bandaged body; Dean's face became tight with anger at the ring bruises showing where someone – or _something _– tried to strangle his baby brother. What was it with supernatural beings aiming straight for Sam's throat? It was pitiful. Sam's eyes fluttered open and a weak smile crossed his face.

"Dean…"

The older brother tried not to flinch at the cracked sound of Sam's voice. Brushing back the bangs that were forever falling in his baby brother's eyes, Dean forced a smile onto his face.

"Hey, Sammy. Now…don't try to talk. Just rest. I'll take care of everything…I promise."

Sam shook his head. "D-Dean. Not Mitchell."

Frowning, Dean grumbled, "No shit, Sherlock. I should have known that salt and burn was too easy. Now to find out who…"

"And we will."

Both Winchesters looked towards the door, smiling when they saw Bobby Singer standing there. Moving over to the brothers, Bobby patted Sam's arm and put his other hand on Dean's shoulder in a comforting mode.

Sammy blinked, feeling off. Bobby tried to comfort the confused young man. "That nurse, Liz, told your ol' Uncle Bobby that the pain meds and the concussion are bound to leave you confused. Just rest, I'm here now and between Dean and I, we'll have it covered."

Dean ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Bobby, something is really wrong here. I went back to the condos and found out Alan's neighbor was murdered."

Sam croaked out, "B-but just saw her. Red hair, w-watched us leave to-today." Sam once more lost his battle with consciousness.

Looking concerned, Dean softly responded, "Bobby, the cops said she'd been dead at least a week. If the killer has anything to do with the vengeful spirit after Alan, that could mean she has been stalking him. And this may not have anything to do with who we suspected before."

Bobby shook his head. "Maybe…Oh, shit." At Dean's alarmed look, Bobby continued. "I found out what room Alan was in, so we could try and protect him as well. I saw a red-haired woman entering the room…"

"What room?" Dean called out even as he dashed to the door.

"Three twenty-one." The words followed Dean out into the hallway as he ran down towards Alan's room. In less than a minute, Dean was in front of the door marked 321 and he burst in. At the sight of a red-haired woman bending over the unconscious form of Alan Tracy, Dean grabbed her by the arm and whipped her around, forcing her into the wall, glaring into the face of – Sarah Tracy.

Realizing that he had his hand clenched around Sarah's throat as he pushed her into the wall. Dropping his hand, Dean wiped it on his jeans. "Um, ah…sorry 'bout that. Major misunderstanding and all…"

Coldly glaring at Dean, Sarah asked, "Did you know I was a paramedic with the Boston Fire Department?" Dean nodded, so Sarah continued. "Do you know what the requirements of the department are?" Dean shook his head only to yelp as Sarah picked him up and slammed him into the wall, at least two feet off the ground. "I had to be able to pick up a vic of one-seventy and fireman carry. I have maintained my upper body strength. I could toss your ass out the window."

"Or," Bobby added from the doorway, a wide-eyed Liz Naylor by his side, "The two of you can work together to find out who did this." Bobby entered the room, closing the door. "The doc is setting Sam's wrist. It's broken. Ribs are just cracked. Concussion isn't too bad."

"Yeah," Sarah snarled. "Alan has a so-called mild skull fracture, two broken ribs, a bruised kidney, seven stitches and a broken left arm, plus a dislocated shoulder." Shaking Dean, she snapped, "You were supposed to protect him, not nearly get him killed."

"Listen, lady," Dean tried to snap back, only to sigh. "First off can you put me down?" Sarah abruptly released Dean, stepping back as he fell to the ground. As Bobby helped him up, Dean grumbled, "We thought we knew what was going on. I was taking care of details while Sam stayed with Alan. But I can't help but wonder if there are some details you Tracys forgot to tell us?"

Sarah looked at Dean before turning to Liz. "Hey, Liz. Do me a favor. Find Dr. Brackett and tell him we would appreciate it if Sam Winchester was moved in here with Alan. There should be plenty of room. Oh, and Mr. Singer is Sam's uncle and Dad knows him well. He should have total access to the room." The nurse left to find the doctor and inform him of the new request.

"Any more Tracys coming to give us hell?" Dean grumbled.

"Not as of yet," Sarah responded. "Emily went into labor early; we nearly lost her and the baby. John needs the family right now. I'll make the call later as to when to tell them about this." Looking at an unconscious Alan, she leaned over him and sat down on the bed beside him. "As soon as Sam is moved in here, we are heading out to find out who did this and kick their ass. No one hurts my Baby."

"Is that Alan, your car or your son?"

Sarah never even looked at Dean. "Any of the above." Brushing back a stray hair in a movement that reminded Dean of his action with Sam. "Hey Baby…Need a lullaby." Sarah began to sing.

_When darkness falls upon your heart and soul.  
I'll be the light that shines for you.  
When you forget how beautiful you are  
I'll be there to remind you.  
When you can't find your way,  
I'll find my way to you.  
When troubles come around,  
I will come to you._

_I'll be your shoulder when you need someone to lean on.  
Be your shelter.  
When you need someone to see you through.  
I'll be there to carry you.  
I'll be there.  
I'll be the rock that will be strong for you.  
The one that will hold on to you.  
When you feel that rain falling down.  
When there's nobody else around.  
I'll be._

_And when you're there with no one there to hold.  
I'll be the arms that reach for you.  
And when you feel your faith is running low.  
I'll be there to believe in you.  
When all you find are lies.  
I'll be the truth you need.  
When you need someone to run to.  
You can run to me_

_I'll be your shoulder when you need someone to lean on.  
Be your shelter.  
When you need someone to see you through_.  
_I'll be there to carry you.  
I'll be there.  
I'll be the rock that will be strong for you.  
The one that will hold on to you.  
When you feel that rain falling down.  
When there's nobody else around.  
I'll be._

_I'll be the sun.  
When your heart's filled with rain.  
I'll be the one.  
To chase the rain away._

_I'll be your shoulder when you need someone to lean on.  
Be your shelter.  
When you need someone to see you through.  
I'll be there to carry you.  
I'll be there.  
I'll be the rock that will be strong for you.  
The one that will hold on to you.  
When you feel that rain falling down.  
When there's nobody else around.  
I'll be.  
I'll be._

By the time Sarah's clear, lovely voice faded, Sam was being wheeled into the room. Sarah brushed a loving hand over Alan's head, her hand shaking slightly at the feel of the bandage around her brother-in-law's skull and a smaller one on his cheek just below his eye. Taking his hand, she clutched it tightly. "Do you know how old you were the first time I ever saw you up close? Just about a year. Gordon and Virgil had gotten distracted at a company picnic and you were choking on a marble. Scott had thought John was watching you as well and John thought Scott was. I got that marble out, was declared a hero by your Mom and I fell a bit in love with you." She kissed his hand, tears in her voice as she continued. "Even though it would be several years before I would be your babysitter, I started hanging around your house. I…I felt as if I were part of your family. And you, Baby…you were my baby brother. As much as your brothers, you were my sweet Baby, my little boy." Looking over at Bobby, Sarah looked him up and down before returning her focus to Alan. "Now, I don't wanna leave you, Baby. But I have to help find out what this is so we can go home for Christmas. You have another nephew, you know. Emily had Keith, with just a few problems. We'll discuss that later. In the meanwhile, this is Bobby. I read Kate's profile on him." Bobby looked torn between being offended and intrigued that he had been included in Kate Tracy's intel. "He will do everything he can to protect you. He sounds a lot like Parker. I think you will like him."

Standing up, Sarah went over to where Liz stood by Sam's bed. "Liz." Sarah hugged her old friend. "You have my cell phone?" The nurse nodded but Sarah continued before she could say anything. "Dr. Brackett is limiting access to this room. Tell the police that they are to contact us first, and tell reporters to kiss my ass." Liz hugged the red-haired woman, whispering that it would be OK.

Standing at the door, Sarah looked back at Alan and smiled, blowing a small kiss before heading out into the hall with an expectant look at Dean. Leaning over his brother, Dean whispered "Be back soon, Sammy." Nodding to Bobby, Dean followed Sarah into the hallway, thinking that Tracy Women were as ballsy as most men he had ever met. What the hell made people that strong? It wasn't uncommon in his world but what could be a part of the Tracys life to make them all so strong and resolute?

Sarah and Dean looked each other over before Sarah nodded. "OK, Dean. I'll follow you for now. Where do we start?"

Dean grinned sharply. "Back to the shelter and where this happened. Let's get some answers."

"Shouldn't we talk to the police first?"

Shaking his head, Dean began to walk down the hallway, forcing Sarah to run to keep up. "Nope. Cops will try to fit witness reports into what makes sense, not what really happens. So let's find out…" Stopping suddenly, he looked at Sarah. "Um…any idea where we are going?" At Sarah's sharp nod, the pair began to once more move quickly towards the exit. "OK, Red. Let's give you a crash course in ghost busting. I am assuming you can shoot and you can fight?"

"Dean, I am from Kansas. I can kick your ass, shoot it and then serve it up on a platter with a side of 'taters."

Dean hid a smile as they entered the garage and approached the Impala. All this and she drove a '57 T-Bird. Damn, why were the good ones always taken?

**_A/N - Sarah has come into the picture, as has Bobby. I am sure you know who is behind the haunting but...we'll see. Enjoy the story and be kind, rewind or at least get clue, please review. And yes, I think Dean would find Sarah fascinating. She is tough, strong and gives as good as she takes. She understands family and will fight to the death to protect them._**

**_Besides - she drives a T-Bird. But alas for our hero - she loves her hubby and besides, alley cat yes, adulterer, nope. Dean does have some rules. - CC_**


	17. Chapter 17

**Payment in Kind**

**_Disclaimer - see chapter one_**

**_Before we begin, a Happy New Year to all my readers. You were definately the high point of 2008. Yeah, I know, that's kinda sad. But thank you all, especially Sammygirl1963 and Sam1. You have both talked me through a lot and this story is for you both...You have been great betas and better friends. _**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

Sam woke up once more, his thoughts muddled and his mouth feeling as if a cotton sock had replaced his tongue. "D-Dean?" he croaked out.

Bobby was instantly at the younger man's side. "Hey, Sammy. How ya feeling, kid?"

"It's Sam," he automatically responded, regretting speaking at all at the tearing feeling in his throat.

Brushing back the chocolate locks away from Sammy's aquamarine eyes, Bobby smiled indulgently at the boy – at least to him – that he had known since the youngster was in diapers. Bobby had never had children of his own. He and his wife had been trying – and hopeful – that their dreams for a family would soon be fulfilled when she had been possessed by a demon. His possessed bride had been trying to kill Bobby when a local deputy – and an old friend of Bobby's – had stopped by. When she had tried to kill the law enforcement officer, Bobby had been forced to kill her. After her funeral, Bobby – much as John Winchester later would – tried to understand what had happened. Discovering the truth about demons and the supernatural had made Bobby vow to never remarry or have children, never again offer up sacrifices to the darkness. Bobby was equally determined that no one would ever find a place in his heart that should have gone to the family he was denied. That vow was shattered the day the Impala had pulled into his driveway and John had opened the door to reveal his sons. Neither one of them talked – Sammy due to his age and Dean by choice. In time, Dean would once again speak but according to John it was a far cry from the bubbly chatterbox the boy had been before his mother's death.

Seeing the pain his ravaged throat was causing Sam, Bobby poured a glass of water and helped get Sam into position to take a few sips. Sighing with relief, Sam once more leaned back into the pillow. Looking around, he raised his eyebrow in surprise. The hospital room he was currently ensconced in was nice. Much nicer, in fact, than any other hospital room Sam or any member of his family had ever been in. Sadly, there had been a lot of those.

Watching the puzzled expression on Sam's face, Bobby grinned as he pulled a chair over. "This is usually a private suite. You can pull the curtain and create a sitting area or leave it open and have a sleeping area for a family member. The sleeper-lounger was removed to make room for your bed but there is still tons of room. It's more like a hotel room."

Shaking his head, Sam whispered, "C-can't…"

"What? Can't afford? Can't be here? Well, the room was Alan's at first, but his sister-in-law requested that you be moved in here. This way we can keep an eye on both of you at once. And the Tracys are picking up your medical bills. Said that you boys were "contract employees and that you were hurt on the job". I know hunting is a calling not a real job. But for a paying gig, this ain't that bad."

Looking around, Sam asked, "D-Dean?"

Placing his hands on the bed rail, Bobby nodded. "Dean went out to find who did this. They know it wasn't Mitchell. And he has a few clues. I was to stay here and protect you and Alan."

"A-Alan?"

"Alan is still unconscious." Bobby rattled off Alan's injuries, but gave the assurance that with time and rest, the youngest Tracy brother would be alright. Sam looked past Bobby to where Alan lay on his hospital bed. Considering the last time he had seen the blonde, Alan had been laying broken and bloody on the sidewalk, even bruised and bandaged he looked great in comparison. "But honest, Sam, the docs think he will be OK."

Before Sam could make the effort to respond, Liz entered the room. Flashing Sam and Bobby a smile, the nurse quickly checked Alan's vitals before heading over to Sam's bed. "Hi, Sam. You are looking a hell of a lot better than before." Efficiently checking Sam's vitals, Liz entered the info into the electronic medical records. Turning to say something to Bobby, the RN noticed the small protective sigil that the older hunter had discretely drawn on the head of Sam's bed. Looking around, she began to take note of the other things Bobby had done to assure Alan and Sam's safety.

Bobby was doing a fair imitation of a deer in the headlights as Liz whipped her head back around. Sam soon joined him when Liz asked, "Are you Hunters?"

* * *

Pulling up outside the shelter, Dean stepped out of the Impala and waited for Sarah to join him on the sidewalk. "Ah, welcome to the Hotel California."

Sarah glared at him. "I am sure you are not looking down on the residents. Because I know from Kate's research that there were times your family was in similar straights. Or is it because organized religion is involved?"

Dean raised a chin, returning her glare for a moment before lowering his gaze for a moment trying not to laugh. Bobby was right, green eyes really did have a laser beam effect when you wanted them to. _I must use this weapon only for good, _he snickered to himself.

When Sarah's glare changed to a confused look, Dean realized that while his thought had remained silent, his snickering laugh hadn't. "Sorry. Just a lot of so-called religious folks are some of the worst sinners."

"And some," Sarah challenged, "are people who would do whatever it takes to protect the innocent and do the right thing, no matter what the personal cost."

Thinking of Pastor Jim, murdered at the hands of Demon Meg when the three Winchesters were trying to hunt down the Yellow-Eyed Demon, Dean sobered quickly. A man of infinite faith, Jim was a frequent shelter from the storms of life not only for the boys but for other hunters. Jim Murphy died as he had lived – his faith in God strong and willing to fight with his last breath to destroy the evil that walked among man. Dean still missed the man.

Nodding, Dean followed Sarah's lead into the shelter. They needed eye witness accounts of the attack on their brothers and here was the place to get them.

* * *

Virgil shut his cell phone, having just finished a call from his wife. Noticing the concerned look on his brother's face, Gordon came over to where he stood. Briefly marveling once more on how much Scott and Virgil resembled each other – and their father – Gordon quickly whispered, "What's up?"

Looking at his auburn-haired brother, Virgil shook his head. "Nope. Gotta tell you all at the same time." The two men reentered Emily's room to confront the family.

John barely glanced at his two younger brothers but Scott watched them carefully. A lifetime as their oldest sibling had taught him well when bad news was forthcoming. "Virg? Gordy? What's the matter?"

Gordon shrugged but Virgil sucked in his breath. At this cue, Jeff, John and Kate – and Emily would have if awake – turned to look at the middle Tracy son, knowing he tended to do that when there was news he would rather not tell.

"OK, Virg, spill it – now." Kate quietly demanded. Jeff and Scott tried to hide grins. The quieter Kate got, the more dangerous her temper. The Tracys had all learned not to argue with her when she was in that mood.

"I just got off the phone with Sarah. I think we can be assured that her tenant's murder had something to do with the attacks on Alan."

"How can you be sure?" John asked as he held his wife's hand, his thumb running over the side of her hand.

"Because about the same time the police were identifying the body, Alan and Sam Winchester were attacked." At the panicked looks on their faces, Virgil continued to talk. "They were both banged up kinda bad, Alan a bit worse than Sam, but they should both recover nicely, with time and rest." Virgil decided to go more into details of his baby brother's exact injuries later. Or better yet, let Sarah do it.

"I thought they had determined who was responsible and it was being taken care of?" Kate harshly demanded.

Virgil shrugged. "Guess it was a false lead. Sarah and Dean are about to question the shelter residents – whom the police are discounting as viable witnesses – but Dean is sure could be very valuable witnesses."

"Why don't the police want to listen to the residents? I mean if they saw the attack?" Gordon's voice trailed off at the almost scared look on Virgil's face.

"Because the residents say the saw a man that would appear and disappear. They saw Alan and Sam being flung through the air with no one ever touching them."

The Tracys all sat silent, confused and angry beyond belief. Who was trying to hurt – no, _kill_ – Alan? Kate summed up all their feelings with her next words.

"This thing –whoever or whatever it is – better learn to stay dead. Or I swear to God, it will think dying was the easy part."

* * *

Dean and Sarah walked into the shelter. While Sarah had been there before on business for the Tracy Family Charitable Trust, it had been more than two years since she had last walked through the doors. With satisfaction, she took note of how clean and well-run the establishment appeared. It was a good feeling to give to those who needed your help. It was a better feeling to know that you could trust the person who cashed the checks to spend the money wisely.

Reverend Abbott took note of the pair as they entered the main room. Dean did not look at all like his brother but there was that same strength and determination that he had always seen in John Winchester. And while Emily Tracy was his usual contact from the Trust, Sarah Tracy had been memorable if only for the busload of emergency workers that had come to help during her last visit. Several of them now coordinated a monthly health clinic with the shelter, doing everything from pre-natal to flu shots.

"Sarah, how are you?" the minister smiled as he took her hand. "I wish we could have seen you again under better circumstances."

Nodding her head, Sarah began to introduce Dean. "This is Dean…"

"Winchester," Abbott interrupted. At the two confused faces before him, Reverend Abbott almost laughed. "As I told Sam earlier, you are both clearly marked by your father. John Winchester was a good man. A stubborn, opinionated, ornery son-of-a-bitch that you usually wanted to shoot, but still a good man."

Dean shrugged. Yeah, that sounded like his father.

* * *

In the park across from Mass General Hospital, a lone female dressed in black stood alone. From beneath her hat, a few strands of shocking red hair were caught by the nearby street lamps. Holding an ornate oriental box in her hands, she caressed it lovingly. The black half-veil that distorted her features fluttered in the evening breeze. The lights from the hospital glittered off of her glasses. Corrine Transom glared at the building that sheltered the boy – even now, she still thought of him that way – wishing with all her heart that she could rip it apart piece by piece to get to her target. The dark magic she had learned first from Trahan Belegant – aka "the Hood" – and later from every source she could, had taught her how to preserve a piece of her beloved master so that he would remain linked to the mortal plane. Ultimately, it had taught Transom how she and the Hood could achieve their revenge.

"Yes, my love, my master. Those fool hunters have made it so that we can not get to Alan Tracy in the hospital. But we will eliminate those who protect him. If we must kill them all, we will. But as I promised you on the day you died, we will take the heart of the Thunderbirds and still its beat for all time. Break the wings of a bird, you told me, and they can heal to fly again. Break the bird's heart, it will wither and die. With the death of Alan Tracy, International Rescue shall be destroyed and you will at last be avenged when the Thunderbirds fly no more."

* * *

Dean and Sarah talked to the men who had raced to their brothers' rescues. Sarah virtually beamed as she realized that most of the men were ones that Alan had helped. As the last man – the old man, Ben, that Dean recognized from Quincy Market – put it, "When I came here, the others told me how Alan came every Thursday. Sometimes more often, but definitely every Thursday. That they looked forward to him coming. Everyone did. And when he would leave, how every able bodied man – and the occasional woman – would watch him walk down the street. We'd wait until he was safely in the subway station. That station has a police man there, 24/7 you know. We just wanted to make sure he was OK."

Leaning back in the chair, Dean tried to ignore the smug look Sarah shot him. "Ya got a point, Red?"

"It's Sarah." Dean smugly smiled, thinking he could get the same reaction from his brother. "And all I can say is good karma is paying off. Some malevolent force is after Alan but he keeps being saved. Why? Because he is a good person. Accept it, Dino."

"Dino was a cartoon dog. You comparing me to him?"

"No. The dog had better manners." Dean glared at Sarah, who merely looked at the notes she had jotted down. "Ben said he heard the – um…"

"You can say it. G-h-o-s-t. Ghost."

Now it was Sarah's turn to glare at Dean. "Fine. The ghost said Alan was being punished for his family sins. And the apparition appeared to be wearing a red garment, maybe some kind of robe."

"Sound like someone you know?"

Sarah bit her lower lip. "Maybe. But…before I can go over any particulars, I think we need to go speak with a certain attorney."

"James Saba? But he was connected to Mitchell and we know he had nothing to do with it."

Standing, Sarah began to move and Dean stood to join her. "No, Dean. Mitchell and that punk-ass kid brother of his may not have anything to do with this. But Saba was a lawyer for someone else who had it in for my family."

As Sarah climbed in next to Dean in the Impala, he realized she had stopped talking. Frustrated, he snapped, "Well, you gonna tell me who or do I have to guess?"

"I'll tell you. If I have to. For now, let's go face a scumbag lawyer."

Gunning the engine, he shrugged. "Sure. Wanna play good cop – bad cop?"

Sarah grinned. "Only if I get to be the bad cop."

"Think you can?"

"I've watched Kate."

Dean nodded. Oh, yeah. She could do it. Sarah had learned from the best.

**_

* * *

_**

A/N - Well, that is the end...for 2008!!! Seriously, I am having fun with this. I am sure if you know Thunderbirds, you could see - in recent chapters - who the bad guy was. I have brought the Hood into my stories three times, and three times I have killed him. But as this is a Supernatural story, well, this time he just didn't want to stay dead. Transom and the Hood were not romantically involved in the movie. I created that to try and give SOME logical reason for her to be willing to follow him as blindly as she did. People sometimes ask me why I torture Alan...or in seaQuest, Lucas...and now Sam. Easy - best reactions. Everyone in their worlds wants to protect "the baby", the "kid"...the innocent. So...HEY! I don't kill them...Stab, shoot, bomb, break bones, kidnap, terrorize...(first time I have choked Alan...) but, they live! Happy New Year! -CC

**_Oh, yeah...MAKE YOUR NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION BE TO REVIEW AS MANY FAN FIC STORIES THAT YOU CAN - AND WRITERS, RESOLVE TO ANSWER EVERY REVIEW!_**


	18. Chapter 18

**Payment in Kind**

**Chapter Eighteen**

**_Disclaimer - see chapter one_**

* * *

Sam desperately wished to be pulled back into unconsciousness at that moment. Bobby looked like he wanted to join him. And Liz continued to look at them both with a blending of shock and wonder.

"Um, Hunters, ma'am? Are you from PETA?" Bobby tried to bluff the nurse.

"You mean People Eating Tasty Animals?" Liz responded. Bobby grinned and Liz smiled in return. "No, I mean hunters, people who go after ghost, demons and things that go bump in the night." Seeing the confusion on both men's faces, Liz sighed and pulled out an amulet from under her uniform smock top. "I'm Wiccan." And before the men could say anything, she frowned. "And I hope you aren't some of those idiots who can't tell the difference between Wiccans and those who practice dark arts. Because I have some relatives in the San Francisco Bay Area who have some real kick-ass power. And none of them got it from going all dark side. Wiccan is an ancient religion and true believers are, well, we are not out boiling babies and making blood sacrifices by the new moon."

Bobby grinned once more. "I apologize ma'am. I hope I didn't offend you. Yeah, both me and the boys are hunters. But not even Wiccans know about hunters all the time."

Liz shook her head. "When I was attending the University of Nebraska, I met a hunter. He saved us from a nest of vampires. Name was Daniel Elkins. Have you ever heard of him?"

Sam and Bobby exchanged looks before nodding. "Yes, ma'am." Sam coughed out before he touched Bobby's arm, asking the older man with his eyes to continue for him.

"Elkins died a few years ago. He was probably the best vampire hunter ever. Not bad at other things, but no one knew more about vampires than Daniel."

Liz picked up on Bobby's use of a past term when he spoke of the other hunter. Shaking her head, she looked saddened. "It's been almost twenty years, but…Damn. I'm guessing he didn't die of old age?"

"Nope. See, ya hunt these things long enough, stuff starts hunting ya back." Looking Liz up and down, Bobby continued. "Damn. You were in college twenty years ago? I would have never guessed as much." Bobby sighed. "I guess that means some clever guy snatched you up a long time ago."

Grinning, Liz picked up her data pad before heading towards the door. "Nope. Never met a man who could keep up with me. But one thing I have heard of hunters over the years – you boys have endurance down to a science."

"Maybe you should talk to Dean," Bobby shrugged.

Liz opened the door and looked at Bobby over her shoulder. "I don't like little boys, Mr. Singer. I prefer men, and I have found men with experience to be…intriguing."

Bobby was smiling as the door shut behind Liz. At a slight gagging sound, he turned in concern to Sam. The younger Winchester looked like he was going to be ill. "Watch it boy. I'm old but I ain't dead."

* * *

Pulling up in front of a renovated three story brick building near the Hancock Building in the Financial District, Dean and Sarah climbed out of the Impala and looked up at the structure. "James Saba and Associates takes up the top floor of the building. The man was a partner at Landman, Fletcher, Stanley and Saba. But he liked to take the showboat cases. Defending the undefendable was how one tabloid scribbler phrased it." Dean was surprised to see the level of dislike on Sarah's face.

"Like who?" Dean asked.

"Mr. Saba was the defense attorney for serial rapists, serial killers, child killers, celebrity criminals. He took one case, had to travel to London. No one in the UK wanted to take the case and since Saba had argued before the World Court previously, the High Court of England agreed that he was preferable to them forcing a British barrister to defend a monster. Since it also had multiple jurisdiction and multi-national victims, it was again preferable. But the publicity and Saba's eagerness for the case upset his partners. They basically made it clear that if he caused the firm embarrassment again, they would consider it a violation of the ethics clause in the partnership agreement."

"Lawyers with ethics? Is there such a creature?" Dean snarked.

Sarah gave a tight smile. "Apparently so. After the Mitchell case ended so…spectacularly, his partners booted him out. He moved up here to Boston…never gained the same level of success or notoriety, but…"

"Maybe he just learned to fly lower on the radar." Dean surmised, not surprised when Sarah nodded in agreement. Together, the duo walked up the wide stone steps and entered the lion's den.

* * *

John woke in the predawn hours momentarily confused. He had become used to waking up in one of two locations – Thunderbird Five or Emily's arms. Even now, the two slept best in each other arms. John hoped that would never fade.

Emily's doctors had been in earlier. Dr. Alberts and Dr. Henrichs were both please with Emily's progress. Keith was now ensconced in a basinet in the corner. And John's own family was no longer haunting the hallways. Kate had herded her husband and brothers-in-law back to the Island, telling them they could visit later. His father was still here, someone to give John the occasional "break". Jeff snored softly in a sleeper lounger, positioned next to his newest grandchild. John almost laughed at the sight of his father sleeping with one hand near his grandson so that he could take care of the baby if need be. _"If anyone ever wonders where Scott gets his overprotective Mother Hen routine, I should tell them it was from Papa Bear…"_

Trying to make himself more comfortable in a chair surely designed by the Marquis de Sade, John unintentionally pulled his wife's hand. To his shock, the hand he was holding tugged back. "Emmy?" John whispered softly so as to not wake his sleeping father and son.

Emily's eyes fluttered open and her midnight blue eyes held a level of exhaustion that the young doctor rarely allowed herself to exhibit. "Hey, Starman. You look like hell."

John chuckled lightly, never noticing the tear that trailed down his face. "Well, my angel was almost snatched from me. Now, Emmy, please…I can't go through this again. I know you wanted a big family. But Little Bit, Keith and I – we need you. We need you so much. Before you leave here, I am gonna make sure…Keith is it, got it?"

Nodding sadly, Emily agreed. She had wanted a big family but there was no way she was leaving her babies. Speaking of babies…

"John, can I hold my son now?"

Smiling, John kissed his wife softly before rising to pick up their son. Carefully juggling the sleepy infant, he placed Keith in her arms before crawling onto the bed beside her. Rationally, he knew he should be paging the nurse and letting the medical staff know that Emily was awake. But they had been denied this moment for far too long.

From his position in the corner, Jeff continued to lie quietly while his son, daughter-in-law and newest grandchild became reacquainted. Even though they were doing things new parents all over the world had done for centuries – counting fingers and toes, deciding whose chin or where that nose had come from – Jeff knew John and Emily were treasuring the moment because they knew how it had almost not happened at all. Now if Jeff could just be assured that his own baby boy was safe, maybe he could sleep through the night. _"OK, Lucy. I think I can handle it from here. Please be with Alan. Part of me wants to fly out there and deal with whatever is after our boy but I know I have to have faith in our birds as they fly to winds. It is just so hard sometimes…"_

Suddenly, the strong lavender sent that had been such a presence since this had begun faded until it was only an echo for the senses. Sighing softly, Jeff fell into his first true sleep in days.

"Think we should tell Dad we knew he was awake all along?" Emily softly asked, not wanting to disturb her father-in-law or her sleeping baby.

"And spoil his fun?" John grinned cheekily. "Nah."

* * *

"James Saba?" Dean questioned as they entered the plush office. As they had walked down the hallway, all had been quiet. No lights save the one in the office down the hall and no sounds.

A middle-aged man looked up from a legal brief he had on the desk in front of him. He sneered dismissively at the young man in front of him. Faded jeans, work boots and a beat-up leather jacket was not the kind of client he solicited. Saba's attention was pulled from there by a slim, attractive red-head wearing high end clothing very different from her companion. The clothing and discreet but expensive jewelry made the attorney's eyes gleam in anticipation. He didn't know what the woman had done but he couldn't wait to assist her.

Ignoring Dean completely, Saba walked over to Sarah. "And how can I help you, Miss?"

"It's Mrs., I would thank you. Mrs. Sarah Tracy."

At the name Tracy, Saba lost much of his oily charm. Stepping back, he was unprepared for Sarah to move forward, pinning the man between his desk and a furious Tracy. Her green eyes were two sharply cut emeralds with the same warmth – none.

"As I can see you have guessed, Alan Tracy is my kid brother. No," she held up a hand as the man tried to say something. "Legally, he is my brother-in-law. But I have bandaged skinned knees, read bedtime stories and helped with homework. I have wiped away tears and cheered at victories. So don't you even try to tell me that I am not his big sister." Grabbing the man's designer silk tie, Sarah pulled Saba behind his desk and forced him into the plush chair.

"And the man who you have dismissed, he is Dean Winchester." Dean waved a casual hand at the now terrified man. "His little brother, his only remaining family, Sam, was hurt this evening. Hurt at the same time as my little brother. We left our brothers unconscious at the hospital. I for one am not a happy camper. How about you, Dean?"

Dean moved a bit closer, trying to channel his gentler brother and enjoying the show. "No, I am not happy. But Sarah, we have no real proof that Mr. Saba is involved."

"Dean, sometimes you have to go with gut instincts. And my gut is telling me that the scumbag lawyer is up to his beady little eyeballs. So," Sarah pulled up Saba by the shirtfront, "are you going to admit that your client is behind the attacks on Alan or do I have to lose my temper?"

"Really, Mrs. Tracy, I have no idea what you are talking about." Saba tried to bluff.

Dean Winchester had been winning at poker games in bars across this country years before it had been legal for him to be in them. And he could have won a boatload of money off the sweaty Saba. Sarah though, would have been tough to read. Her instincts had brought them here. _Of course, _he thought darkly, _if the Tracys would clue me in to whatever secret they are hiding maybe I wouldn't have salted and burned Jackson for nothing. Then again, I could consider that a proactive strike._

Sarah's next move took even Dean by surprise. Never letting go of Saba's shirt, she lifted him almost a foot off of the ground and pushed him up against the large bay window. "Hey, Dean, have I mentioned I can bench press two hundred, easy. Think I could get this lying sack of shit through the window?"

Walking over to the window, Dean seemed to be considering it before saying, "Well, you may want to consider your options."

"Like what?"

"Dead he ain't telling us nothing," Dean reasoned.

"His files should give us enough data." Sarah sniped.

Nodding his head, Dean tried once more. "True. But then there is a little matter of killing him is against the laws of this state." _And forty-nine others_.

"Tracy Enterprises has some of the finest lawyers in the world on retainer."

Shaking his head, Dean leaned forward. "She's got me there, Saba. After all, you should know all about that, right?" Looking out the window, he sighed. "But I have to ask you not to toss him out the window, Sarah."

"And why not?"

"My car is right under the window. And I won't be happy if you damage my baby."

Sarah sighed. "Fine." She relaxed slightly, before looking at Dean over her shoulder. "Go move your car."

As Dean made to leave the room, Saba screamed, "No, don't leave me with her. The Tracys…they aren't what they seem."

Sarah stiffened and Dean buried his curiosity. Saba glared at the Tracy wife. "I almost choked when your family testified at Jackson Mitchell's trial. They had managed to keep that trial closed from the media as well. But at least there they had to testify under their own names, not like when they did at Belegant's trial. It had only been a year, but I recognized them. I also knew what would happen if I revealed what I knew. Jeff Tracy would make sure of that."

"You mean like losing your license when you spilled classified info?" Sarah snarled.

"Fine, yeah that."

Sarah shook him. "Is that why you tried to make it sound like Dad was a bad parent, like Scott and Kate was a couple of kooks?" Sarah glared at Dean, mentally ordering him not to respond to that. "Your clients, in both cases, were guilty as sin. Belegant tried to force throw a fourteen-year-old off a catwalk to a cement floor, just to kill him while his father was there. And Mitchell terrorized and physically assaulted a fifteen-year-old boy because of some over-inflated sense of self-worth led him to believe that Tracy Enterprises should ignore corporate betrayal and treason against this country." Pressing Saba hard against the glass – Dean could swear he heard the window frame groan – Sarah growled, "Admit who you are working for…"

"Belegant! Trahn Belegant's widow!"

Glaring, Sarah spat out, "He wasn't married!"

"In prison, he was permitted to marry on his deathbed. The authorities saw no harm as his bride was also in prison."

"He met some woman in prison?" Dean asked, clearly amused. Annoyance took over his features as he continued, "It was a woman, right?"

"He knew her before hand. She was arrested and convicted with him." Saba was practically sobbing by now. Sarah abruptly let go. Shocked, she did not even seem to notice the man crumple to the floor.

"Transom? Corrine Transom?" Saba nodded at Sarah's stunned whisper. Looking over at Dean, she grabbed him by the arm. "Dean, we gotta go."

"Wait." Dean held up a hand. "So you are taking orders from some woman in a prison? What prison?"

"Sh-she is supposed to be incarcerated in London. B-but…" Saba stuttered from the floor.

"She escaped. And you saw no need to inform the authorities or her victims?" Dean now took his turn to growl.

"Mrs. Belegant…she, she paid me a large fee…and…You don't understand. She knows the dark arts. She swore if I betrayed her, her husband would return to destroy me!"

Dean and Sarah exchanged a sharp look. Sarah left the room, with Dean following her. He paused at the doorway to speak to Saba. "I'd like to comfort you, tell you what she threatened was impossible, but…even I can't lie that well." Looking at Saba one last time he shrugged. "And dude…change your pants."

As Saba struggled to his feet, he froze when a cold voice echoed in the room. "You should have listened to my wife, Mr. Saba."

* * *

Sarah paced angrily on the sidewalk, snapping as Dean arrived. "C'mon. We have to get back to the condo. I need to get in touch with base…I mean, home."

"Wait. Who is this Train guy?"

Sucking in her breath, Sarah looked at Dean. "I promise, I will tell you everything but not here and not now."

"And why not?" Dean snapped.

"Because I don't think either of us wants to explain this to the cops." Dean turned to see an unmarked police car pull up behind the Impala.

The same plainclothes detective from outside the condo climbed out of the passenger side. Glaring at Dean, he looked at him and was about to say something when the driver suddenly called out, "Woody? That can't be Sarah Woodbury?"

Sarah turned, smiling and went to give a hug to the new arrival. "Marty Simpson, is that you?"

"What are you doing here, Woody? Last I heard, you'd been swept away to some tropical paradise."

Shrugging, Sarah explained about Alan's attack and wove a story about Dean suspecting James Saba connection. But Dean noticed that she was quick to imply that Kyle Wescott and his brother were the likely non-supernatural causes. As Sarah wrapped up her cover story, Dean noticed that the man identified as Marty was quick to believe her. He wasn't sure if the other man believed her, but he knew the guy was giving him an evil eye.

Before Dean finally snapped, Sarah nudged him in the stomach and asked, "Hey, Marty, what's up with your friend? Because if he is interested in Dean, I hate to tell him, he doesn't swing that way."

"Detective Anthony Pettit, currently Boston PD, formerly Baltimore." Dean stiffened momentarily, recalling his last run-in with the Baltimore Police Department. "I thought Mr. Winchester seemed familiar earlier. God knows the car did. So I ran a check. But imagine my surprise to learn that Dean Winchester has never even had a parking violation. Nothing in the computers, and no paper files either. So he couldn't be the guy I recall from Baltimore, could he? The one who was also wanted for murder in St. Louis. Just a guy with the same name, same description, also has a brother named Sam and drives a '67 Chevy Impala."

"Well," Dean replied cheekily, "everyone in the world has a twin. Or so they say."

"Do you really expect me to believe it?" Pettit snarled.

"Do you have any proof otherwise?" Sarah asked coolly. "Because until you do, please be advised that the Winchesters are friends of the family as well as contract employees. If you want to speak with them, please," she handed her friend Marty a small white card, "contact this number. You will be put in touch with the chief legal council for the Tracy Family. Now, if there is nothing else, Dean and I would like to get back to the hospital."

"Is that all," Pettit barked. "Or do you think we could go up to talk to Saba and ask why his name was on some papers we found in our dead vic's condo? A condo you own, Mrs. Tracy and was next to the condos where your brother-in-law and your _friends_ have been staying."

"Go on up and talk to him, Pee-wee." Dean snapped. "I don't think he was coming down anytime soon."

The words had barely left Dean's mouth when the sound of breaking glass was followed by Marty grabbing both Sarah and Dean, pulling them away from the Impala. The sudden motion caused them all to fall to the sidewalk. As glass showered over them, Dean and Marty both made to cover Sarah from the flying debris. A resounding "**THUNK"** and the sound of cracking glass followed. Looking up, Dean stood, pulling Sarah with him.

"My car," Dean whispered, stunned at the bent hood and damaged windshield.

"The scumbag lawyer," Sarah nudged. "I think your car can be fixed."

"Someone is still up there," Pettit yelled, drawing his weapon and running into the building. Marty kept his weapon out, covering the exit and protecting the "civilians". Busy scanning for a perp, Marty never heard Sarah softly gasp. Following her gaze, Dean looked up to see a bald Asian man, wearing a bright red oriental garment. Feeling her trembling, Dean put an arm around Sarah as the apparition smiled cruelly, before fading from view.

* * *

**_A/N - OK, dead lawyer, suspicious cop, Bobby getting hit on, Emily and Sam are both awake, Alan is still out cold, and Sarah and Dean can say "I see dead people." Which may be common for Dean but Sarah is justified in being freaked. But did Sarah do good at the "bad cop" part, or what? And yes, I hurt the Impala/ But what U break, I usually fix. Let me know what you think...REVIEW!!! I could use the pick-me-up. - CC_**

**_p.s. - The PETA crack is one my hubby uses. He said I have to acknowledge rocker Ted Neugent for the quote but frankly, I think Tom is cuter than the "Motor City Madman". (Go to my profile then google Ted if you don't believe me.)_**


	19. Chapter 19

**Payment in Kind**

**_Disclaimer - see chapter one_**

**_I am updating early because I am celebrating. Sam1 and Sammygirl1963 know why, kinda. Let's just say, it was all good._**

* * *

**Chapter 19**

For appearances sake, Dean and Sarah had to agree to have the police drive them back to Mass General Hospital where they had told Detectives Simpson and Pettit they had been headed prior to the "incident". Dean could only watch in admiration as the Tracy wife deftly handled the police. It was amusing as Sarah deftly wove truth and fiction into an acceptable story for the authorities. _Mind you, _he thought, _it doesn't help that she knows most of them by name. _Dean listened as Sarah greeted almost everyone from the uniformed officers, the Boston FD paramedics, even the driver of the coroner's van by name, asking after spouses, children and the like. A few even gave her a quick embrace. Once the scumbag lawyer had been confirmed as a dead scumbag lawyer, the paramedics even asked after Sarah's son, Michael. She happily pulled out an I-Phone and flipped to pictures of her two year-old-old, proudly proclaiming him a "musical genius". Well, maybe most toddlers couldn't play the piano but he wasn't sure being able to play "Jingle Bells" made one a genius.

As they sat in relative silence in the back of the cruiser, Sarah dutifully kept up a conversation with the two uniformed officers. The older one, Dean learned, owed Sarah his life after she dodged gunfire and helped keep him alive when an arsonist-for-hire tried to avoid arrest. The younger one, fresh from the academy, was more impressed with a story he had heard about Sarah. "Um, Mrs. Tracy, is it true? Have you really met the Thunderbirds?"

Sarah tried not to laugh. Had she met the Thunderbirds? Hell, she **WAS **a Thunderbird! Restraining her amusement, Sarah nodded. "Yes, there was a fire at a hotel during Hurricane Meg. No choppers or rescue boats could get close enough to rescue the guests, mainly a bunch of high school students at an academic conference, from the harbor side of the hotel. A group of students were trapped in a room on one of the top floors. My partner and I had been among a few firefighters who got in before it was declared too dangerous. As we made our way down a stairwell with a maid we found hiding – more afraid of the INS than the flames – I thought I heard or saw something. It turns out that the Thunderbirds were rescuing the boys from that room. One boy was left to save. When I entered the room, having sent Tommy on with the woman, I found him unconscious on the floor. I got him to the window, just ahead of the flames, and was met by a member of International Rescue. We escaped only seconds before the room became an inferno."

Dean looked over at Sarah. "That was Alan, wasn't it? The kid you rescued?"

Smiling, Sarah nodded. "Yes. I hadn't seen him since he was ten. But…soon, the Tracys, my family, were once more in my life. I had missed them. I loved my Boston family but…" Sarah had a faraway look in her eyes. "I knew where I belonged."

The rookie had been watching Sarah intently. "I'm a fourth generation cop. But my sister is about to marry a firefighter. She said it makes more sense than marrying a guy who runs toward gunfire rather than away from it."

Sarah laughed. "Yeah, because a guy who runs into a burning building when everyone else is running out is a much more rational human being."

The two cops laughed as they pulled up in front of the hospital. As the rookie jumped out to open the door – Dean really did hate the trapped feeling of being back there – he leaned over and whispered in Sarah's ear: "And just how crazy are my brother and I for what we do?"

"No crazier than my family, Dean." Sarah muttered enigmatically.

At that puzzling statement, Dean followed her into the hospital, both anxious to see their little brothers.

* * *

Transom had secured a uniform from a maintenance worker. If anyone looked, the slightly darker hue near the waist could be mistaken for a stain.

The tear from the knife was covered by the utility belt she wore.

Walking down the hallway, Transom took note that there was a security guard positioned across from the nurses' station. Five doorways down was room 321. From what hospital gossip she had obtained, Transom knew if any members of one of the Boston sports teams – especially if they were winning – or one of the social elite of the city were hospitalized, it was in this hallway where they were cared for, by some of the best medical experts in the country. Alan Tracy was in that wing, in a room finer than many hotel rooms, nurtured and protected here as he was among his family. But his family was why he was protected, wasn't it? His family name and wealth gave him the protection the hospital could provide. And his family assured that the Winchesters would protect him when her beloved master would have claimed his life in payment for the transgressions of his family. His family. The Tracys. They lived. They thrived. The three elder sons had married and all had produced children. Jeff Tracy must be like an aging feudal lord, secure on his island, surrounded by his devoted sons, his sweet daughters-in-law and his beloved grandchildren. Even among his unmarried sons…Gordon Tracy was seriously dating a young woman. Transom had seen an article about the young woman and Gordon. And even Alan. Transom had been unable to hack into Alan's e-mail accounts – the Thunderbirds truly had improved their computer security since the attack – but his text messages could and were being intercepted. Alan was planning on marrying Tin-Tin. That had infuriated the Hood. His blood to be mingled with that of Jeff Tracy's? The girl, Trahn had said, was worthy to be his heir. A pity, he had reflected, that she had been poisoned by the foolish ideals of his weakling brother and her heart and loyalty stolen by the Tracys. Now this spawn of the Tracy family would marry the end of his family's line? If Transom had ever doubted that it would be the perfect revenge to kill Alan Tracy to destroy his family, all questions were absolved by that. The purity of the Belegant line must not be sullied by this son of commoners. No matter how high on Olympus the Thunderbirds had placed themselves, they still came from the dirt. And to that dirt Alan Tracy would be returned.

_After all, _she mused, _ashes to ashes, dust to dust._

Transom began to move towards Alan's room when a beefy hand clamped down on her shoulder. Turning in place, she stared at a man who must have been a pro wrestler in another life.

"I hope," his voice boomed, "you got a good reason for being in an area you're not cleared for."

* * *

Kate Tracy sat at her father-in-law's desk, knowing if Sarah needed help in Boston or if Dad needed them back in Auckland, she wanted to be first to get the call. So here she sat, going through one report after another for Tracy Industries. _After all, _Kate mused, _the Thunderbirds don't fly on wishes and prayers…_Jeff Tracy had a distinct advantage of being the main stockholder – with the others being his sons – of Tracy Enterprises. It made it easier to fund International Rescue. That had not been Jeff's intent when he had bought out his investors years earlier; he just hated answering to anyone else. _Which explains where Scott gets it from._

At the moment, Scott and his brothers were eating with the children under Onaha's watchful eyes. Afterwards, Scott was going to run maintenance checks on the 'Birds, Gordon was going to give the children swimming lessons and Virgil had every intent of painting the promised stars in Keith's nursery. _Leaving me, _Kate grumbled, _with the paperwork._

"Mommy?" Kate raised her head to see her five-year-old son, Jason, standing in the doorway. Putting down the latest report, Kate turned her chair and held open her arms. Jason happily ran into them and was pulled onto his mother's lap. Cuddling into Kate, Jason looked up at his mother with big eyes. The idle thought crossed her mind how much her son resembled his father and grandfather. "Mommy, are you going anywhere else?"

Shaking her head, Kate placed a gentle hand in her son's hair, pulling him even closer so his head rested on her heart. "No, baby. Mommy isn't going anywhere, any time soon. Aunt Emily is doing better, so Uncle John and Grandpa have that covered. No emergencies in the world mean that IR gets a break." Jason nodded, making his mother smile. Most kids grew up on Grimm's Fairy Tales. Dad had made sure his grandchildren were growing up on stories of the Thunderbirds. "And, for better or for worse, Ann Marie can send most of the paperwork for Tracy Enterprises to me via computer."

"That bites, Mommy." Kate stiffened and looked at her firstborn.

Sighing, she once more cuddled her son to her breast. "That's it. No more of Uncle Gordy babysitting. Ever."

* * *

Dean and Sarah approached the hallway where their brothers were recuperating. Suddenly, Sarah stopped. Her action was so sudden that Dean had kept going forward and had gone almost ten feet when he realized that Sarah had not moved. "Hey, Red."

The disliked nickname caught Sarah's attention. Glaring at Dean, she drew a deep breath before she spoke. "I don't know. I just have this creepy feeling, like I am being watched." Drawing in another breath, she approached the nurses' station. "Hi Angie."

"Sarah!" A cheerful, chubby blonde smiled at Sarah. "I'd heard you were back. I'm sorry about your brother-in-law. But Liz said he's doing better and they are thinking that he might wake up soon."

Smiling, Sarah nodded. "Yes, I know. But Doc Brackett said it probably won't be until tomorrow. The pain meds, you know, combined with his injuries. Um, Angie…Security is keeping an extra eye out, aren't they?"

Angie nodded fiercely. "Oh, yeah. No one is allowed in or out without an ID and a good reason. Security wasn't this fierce since the Patriots QB was brought in. As a matter of fact, Dwight from Security nabbed some maintenance worker who thought her badge gave her free reign throughout the hospital. He sent her back down to personnel with instructions to review what the colored stripes on the bottom of the badges mean. Green may mean go, but it sure doesn't give you access to all sections."

Nodding once more, Sarah gave a wave and a smile to the nurse and almost ran into Dean when she turned to move towards the boys' room. Dean shook his head and muttered, "Do you know everyone in Boston?"

"Nope," she whispered in return. "But I know enough to get the job done."

Anything Dean would have said was swallowed back when he entered the room and saw Sam's blue-green eyes light up when his brother walked in. "Sammy," he breathed in relief. Sam was so happy to see his brother that he didn't bother to correct him.

Sarah watched the brothers begin to quietly talk – well, Dean talked. Sam's throat was still too sore from its near strangulation to do much more than nod. Bobby walked up to Sarah as she moved over to sit next to Alan, who was still unconscious. "Mrs. Tracy." Bobby addressed her politely.

Shaking her head, Sarah continued to hold Alan's hand and brush his hair from his face. "Now, if I am to call you Bobby, I have to be Sarah. Just as long as you don't call me Red." Bobby followed her glare to Dean, who sat on the edge of his brother's bed, trying – and failing – to project innocence.

"Give it up, Dean." Bobby growled. "Ya couldn't pull that off when ya was younger and it hasn't gotten any better. Now Sammy can still manage it."

Sam lay back on the bed, grinning smugly. He loved his family.

* * *

A few minutes later, as Sam once more drifted off, Dean did a quick check on the wards around the room and the salt lines at the windows. With a brief hug for Bobby, Sarah and Dean once more, reluctantly left their brothers. As Sarah hailed a cab, Dean asked, "So, who is this Train Wreck guy or the Ransom chick?" As the taxi pulled up to the curb, Sarah looked at him and quietly answered.

"I promise you, Dean, I will tell you everything. But not until I am sure we can not be overheard."

"I'm not gonna like this, am I?" Dean's question made Sarah smile slightly.

"Probably not. But at this point, you are in this as deep as we are. Do you want out?"

Dean said nothing as they climbed into the cab. No, he didn't want out. Someone had hurt his brother and no one EVER got away with that.

Soon they were pulling up in front of the condos. Climbing out, Dean watched Sarah as she coolly waved to the police cruiser across the street. Running up the stairs, Dean swallowed at the constant police presence. But Sarah didn't even seem to take note of the police tape still marking the one condo as a crime scene.

"Go into your condo, Dean."

Dean nodded, knowing the police could still be watching. But he had to admit to a degree of curiosity to what Sarah had planned. Moments after he shut the door behind him, he had his answer. The door to the secret room where he and Sam had secured their weapons suddenly opened and Sarah's head came out. "Well, get your butt in here, Winchester."

Following her, Dean stopped short at the now open wall between the two rooms. All of Winchesters weapons were secure. And in Alan's room?

There were several uniforms, of a bright white design with a gold stripe and even what Dean considered a "spaceman" helmet. A computer and another vid-phone were on a table with a desk chair positioned behind it. Sketches for what looked like some kind of spaceship were spread out on one end of the table. "What the hell…" Dean whispered.

"Dean," Sarah sighed. "I don't know any easy way to explain this. Your father became a hunter of the supernatural after your mother died. Dad…well, Dad did what he had to in order to get over the death of his wife. In their own ways, they both have managed to save a lot of lives. And in both cases, it has become a multi-generational thingy."

Sitting in the chair, Sarah closed her eyes. "Dean, I am going to ask for your patience. I only want to explain everything one time." Opening her eyes, she drew in her breath and entered a code to connect her to Tracy Island –sort of.

Dean almost fell when he heard how Sarah opened the conversation. "Thunderbird Operative Seven to Tracy Island, come in."

**_A/N - Yep. It was time for Dean to find out. _**

**_I do have just one question for you all...It seems to me that you were more upset about the Impala being hurt than Sam and Alan and that bothered me for a moment until it hit me...Alan and Sam get hurt - a lot!!! (If you don't believe me, I have some authors to offer up as proof.) Hurting the Impala was more of a shock. But I promise...anything I break, I have the ability to fix. And usually, I have the desire to as well. _**

**_So...what are you waiting for? I posted early, so let's get those reviews in, people!!! - CC_**


	20. Chapter 20

**Payment in Kind**

**Chapter Twenty**

**_Disclaimer - see chapter one_**

* * *

Kate Tracy had been sitting at the desk, continuing to work on the reports before her. Her son Jason had fallen asleep on her lap after their "talk" of a short time ago. Kate simply didn't have the heart to wake him. Looking down at his face, so angelic in slumber, she gave a bittersweet smile. _Oh, my baby. You are growing up so fast. I can recall the day you were born so clearly. But even more clearly, I can remember the day your Uncle Alan left for college. He flew off, planning to drop off Fermat in California before he and Tin-Tin would head for Boston. I can still recall that day so clearly and how much it affected your father. I'll never forget how I found him with you watching your Uncle Alan fly off.: _"See that plane, Jas? Your Uncle Allie is on that plane. He is going away but he'll come back." Kate had been about to approach her husband when she saw the tears trailing down his face. The field commander of the Thunderbirds buried his face in his toddler's tiny form. "He'll come back. My little boy promised he'll come back." Holding out his son, he smiled through his tears. "Hopefully, this will be easier for me when it is time for you to go." As the fifteen-month-old patted his father's cheeks, wiping at his tears, the oldest Tracy son hugged his child closer. "But I doubt it."

Biting her lip, Kate tapped a pen on the desk, trying to straighten out her thoughts before returning to the paperwork in front of her. Memories of that day were only enhanced by the current situation with Alan. Kissing the top of her Jason's head, Kate was relieved that they had kept the situation from the children. As Jason was only five, even as the oldest, he would have trouble understanding why anyone would ever want to hurt Uncle Allie. Alan adored his nephews and his niece, and it was clear to the entire family that he couldn't wait to be a daddy himself. Luckily, Tin-Tin felt the same and Kate was sure that they would not wait long between marriage announcements to birth announcements. And since Dad was hinting that Alan and Tin-Tin could simply stay on in the main villa, there would be plenty of rooms to fill up. Chuckling at the thought of how Scott would react to the idea of his "baby" becoming a father, Kate had just pulled out another report when the communication screen began to blink.

With Thunderbird Five on remote – at least until Fermat got back from school, when the two Hackenbackers would go up for their twice a year rotation and maintenance check – Kate waited for signal conformation before putting it on visual. If it had been a rescue call, she would have gone for "voice only", but she could see from the code that it was coming from Alan's condo. Maybe the kid wasn't that badly hurt after all. To Kate's regret, Sarah came on the line instead. She shouldn't have been surprised, Kate mused, as she realized it had been Sarah's voice command that had activated the link.

"Sarah…" Kate froze at the realization that a stunned Dean Winchester was on one knee next to Sarah in Alan's secret room at the condo. Gathering herself, she raised an eyebrow and asked, "Worst case scenario?"

Nodding her head, Sarah bit her lip before speaking. "Kate…it's _him…_"

Without realizing it, Kate had tightened her grip on her son, waking him from his nap. "Mommy?" Jason whispered as he looked at his mother, his eyes wide.

Setting her son on the ground, Kate held him firmly by the shoulders. "Jas, baby, Mommy wants you to go to the kitchen and find Onaha. Stay with her and watch over your cousins and brother."

"But Mommy, they are with Uncle Gordy…"

"Uncle Gordy, Uncle Virgil and Daddy will be with Mommy. You need to be my big boy and watch over the younger ones."

Jason smiled, his grin showing where one tooth had fallen out on the bottom. "Yep, Mommy. I know, Daddy told me. The Tracy Way. And I'ms the biggest of the kids so it'll be my job to take care of them, right?"

Kissing his head, Kate nodded. "Yeah, baby. That's right. Now get a move on, Scooter." Once her son had run from the room, Kate returned her attention to the monitor. "Sarah, are you sure?"

Dean spoke up. "If by _him_, she means some bald Asian dude in a fancy robe, yeah, that's Train?"

"Trahn. It's Trahn Belegant, Dean. Not Train. Better known as the Hood." Sarah explained, her hands tightly gripping each other, her knuckles white with the strain. Looking at Kate, she said, "I saw him, Kate. The lawyer, James Saba…he confessed that Transom is here in Boston. She's behind it. Lady Penelope was right when she said the Hood died this summer. But just before he died, he married Transom."

"He did what?" Virgil's shocked voice carried across the room to the monitor. The three Tracy sons had all responded to the silent alarm on their watches. They rarely used the alarm claxon these days as it was easier to use the watches than it was to get babies back to sleep.

Dean looked at the Tracys, Sarah beside him and the four on the screen. The women looked scared. The Tracy brothers? The look on their faces was one of men who were being confronted by their worst nightmare. What had this Hood done to them? Finally, he vocalized his thoughts. "OK, who the hell are these people and what did you do to them?"

"What did we do to them?" Scott asked coldly. "_We _did nothing to them. Trahn Belegant ran an illegal diamond mine in Malaysia, where he had several hundred slaves working around the clock in unsafe conditions. When the mine collapsed, the workers were trapped. International Rescue saved the workers, but the mine owner – Belegant – had gone further into the mine, planning to escape and leave the workers to their fate. But a second collapse trapped him. The Thunderbirds could not get to him without endangering the workers. Somehow, he did get out. I don't know how. But when he returned, he had blamed the Thunderbirds for failing to rescue him. He shot a missile at Thunderbird Five. We thought it was a meteor."

"Thunderbird Five?" Dean asked, a bit lost.

"Family space station," Gordon explained.

"Of course, every family needs a space station." Dean cracked.

"When you run a secret rescue organization, it helps for communication purposes." Virgil shrugged.

Sarah looked at the man she had married and at his slight nod, turned to the man beside her. "Dean, your father became a hunter to get over what happened to his wife. Dad created International Rescue because of how his wife died. Like I said, in their own ways, each saved countless lives."

"And Jeff Tracy has his children risking their lives to save total strangers…" Dean's voice trailed off at the look on the faces of the others. "Oh, yeah. Pot, kettle. Never mind." Taking a deep breath, Dean motioned with his hand. "OK, continue."

"Gee, thanks, can we?" Gordon muttered.

Dean raised an eyebrow at the red-headed Tracy son. Now he knew where Alan had gotten his smart mouth.

Kate looked up at her husband and took his hand in hers. Like the other Tracys wives, each knew how much that Spring Break still haunted their husbands. At her gentle touch, Scott continued.

"Anyhow, John was manning Thunderbird Five. We took Three – our space rocket," he explained at Dean's puzzled look, continuing quickly before Dean could make another smart ass remark. "And we went up to the station. But it was all a trap. The Hood and his minions…"

"Min…OOF," Dean's wisecrack was cut off by Sarah's sharp elbow to his gut. Wincing in pain, Dean listened breathlessly to Scott's story.

"The Hood had taken over the Island. Alan had just gotten home for Spring Break. He – along with Fermat and Tin-Tin – was chased all over the Island before the Hood was able to catch them. Kid caused delay after delay for the bad guys. When they finally got free, the Hood was gone. The people we had on the Island were able to get us free from Five but if Alan hadn't gone after the Hood…Kid helped save a couple dozen people from an accident the Hood caused with the Mole…"

"Giant drill machine," Kate explained.

Dean nodded dumbly. And he thought his life was hard to explain.

"Dad took Alan with him to stop the Hood at the Bank of London," Virgil took over.

"Wait," Dean held up his hand. "I think I remember this. I was laid up with a broken ankle after a poltergeist in Wyoming. Not much to do but watch TV. Sam was still at college. The news reported that the Hood tried to rob the Bank of London using stuff stolen from the Thunderbirds after trying to kill them. He was stopped but…I can remember some unofficial reports had that he tried to murder the teenage son of the Thunderbird Commander right in front of the man."

"First he tried to strangle Al, using just his mind," Scott said coldly. Dean swallowed, thinking of his brother's bruised throat. Alan would have only been around fourteen. Sam had a dozen years on that and it had terrified Dean to see the _after_. What had it done to Jeff Tracy to see it _during_?

"Then," Virgil continued, "the Hood had got up on a catwalk above the Mole and turned it on mentally while Alan had been climbing up it. Alan had to jump to the catwalk and the Hood stepped on his hands, trying to make Al drop onto the turbines or at least thirty feet down to a concrete floor."

"So the Hood had some kind of telekinesis?" Dean asked.

Gordon nodded. "Yeah, well luckily it is an inherited ability." At Dean's latest confused look, Gordon explained. "Tin-Tin is the Hood's niece. She showed up and moved the catwalk so Alan was on top. He saved the Hood, the bad guys went to jail and that was where the Hood was reported to have died a few months back. We thought it was over."

Dean sat on his haunches, looking thoughtful. Beyond death, beyond revenge, something was driving the Hood to really want Alan dead…

"What did the Hood think of his niece?" he asked.

Scott looked confused but he answered. "Oddly enough, he seemed proud of her. Disappointed in how she chose to use – or not use – her powers, and he blamed us for her giving the Tracys her loyalty, but he even stated that she was worthy of being his blood kin."

"And how do you think the Hood felt about his niece – his heir apparent – marrying the son of his enemy, now that Alan and Tin-Tin are engaged?" Dean mused.

Gordon alone looked surprised. "The Sprout is getting married? No way!" Looking around at his siblings he groaned. "Man, you all knew? The kid used to tell me everything and you all knew before me? What happened?"

"Alan realized you have a big mouth," Kate remarked. Ignoring Gordon's glare, she looked directly at Dean. "OK, since you reported that it was likely a ghost, I have read up a bit on this. Correct me if I am wrong, but if the person is cremated, then how can they return like this?"

"The Hood…" Dean paused, and then looked at the group. "OK, Virgil was bad, Fermat is worse but you actually know someone calling himself the Hood?" Sarah gave a small giggle before becoming serious once more. The lips of the other Tracys also gave a suspicious twitch or two as Dean continued. "Now, according to the scumbag lawyer…"

"The dead scumbag lawyer," Sarah interjected.

"Yeah, dead on my car," Dean grumbled.

"We'll pay for the repairs, Dean." Kate said firmly. "Please, continue."

"Well, according to Saba, Train wreck…"

"Transom," Sarah corrected, before pausing thoughtfully. "Actually, I kinda like your version."

"Yeah, well the psycho-widow has been learning black magic. All she would need is something of his. Nail clipping, hair, something from his body before his cremation. She keeps that and she can keep him linked to this world." The Tracys continued to look concerned and Dean cocked his head to the side. "More than likely, we just have to find the psycho bride and we can find what she has." Suddenly, Dean froze. "Sarah, can you access the other hidden room. Transom may have gotten in there and we might find info that could give us a way to track her."

Sarah stood up and punched in a code to access the other secret room. Moving into the empty seat, Dean looked at the gathered Tracys and chuckled.

"Man, and I thought my family was strange."

* * *

Walking into Sam and Alan's room, Liz set down a tray on a table before checking both boys' vitals. Moving over to Bobby, she knelt down beside him. "Bobby?"

Bobby blinked sleep from his eyes and smiled at the nurse. In the hours he had spent watching over Sam and Alan, Liz had been a frequent presence. Her gentle smile and wicked sense of humor was something he rarely got to experience in his life.

"I brought you some seafood stew and coffee. It should help keep you going."

Standing up, he took off his ball cap and gave her another smile. "I wanna thank you for all your kindness ma'am…I mean, Liz." He quickly corrected himself at the look she shot him.

"Well, I could say I am just doing my job, but I would be lying." Liz gave another smile as she walked out the door, her smile growing as she felt Bobby watch her leave. The smile rapidly faded when she saw the nurse working at the station.

"Cheryl Bugsme, as I live and breathe. What are you doing here?"

"That's Bugsbee, Lisa."

"Liz."

Rolling her eyes, Cheryl sat behind the computer and began to enter data. "I am qualified to work here and they needed someone so I volunteered. Being more flexible, isn't that why Doctor Brackett said you would be stepping into the Head of Nursing position in January? Although I wonder if other things had to do with it…"

Liz glared at the slinky blonde. The woman thought her flirting, not her resume, should have secured her the promotion. And then she had the nerve to suggest that Liz being a Wiccan made her some sort of practitioner of the black arts. Forcing herself into a calmer state of mind, Liz sat down at her station to update the patient charts. And the whole time, Liz tried to ignore the bad feeling that had laid over her like a blanket.

* * *

"Got it!"

Sarah ran back into the room as Dean and the Tracys all looked at her. "Corrine Belegant leased a rental car from Liberty Car Rental three weeks ago. Kate, didn't Tracy Enterprises win the contract to equip all their cars with tracking devices to prevent thefts?" Kate nodded and began to enter data. Sarah continued to go through the paperwork. "Plane tickets, motel receipts, and…oh, my god, that is too gross."

"What?" Dean asked, standing up.

Sarah sat back down, holding out a form. "First, she arraigned through this document to transport a human organ from England to Boston. Then," she dropped another piece of paper onto the desk, "she purchased a special container to extend the use of the organ. Supposedly up to six months. Then the organ container was placed in this special Oriental Box that is designed for remains, usually ashes or something." Leaning back in the chair she sighed deeply.

"Transom somehow managed to secure the Hood's heart. And I don't mean it in the romantic sense."

**_

* * *

_**

A/N - I don't know if it is writing Supernatural , but I have had more ooh, yuck, moments with this story than all the others combined. OK, so Dean knows and I think he accepted it fairly well. Maybe it was his upbringing, I don't know. But I think he would be shocked but OK with the Tracys being International Rescue.

Well, if you are enjoying this or even if you aren't, I would love to hear from you. Cause the weather bites here in New Hampshire and I could use some warmth and sunshine. (Grumble, grumble...ain't getting any from Mother Nature...) - CC


	21. Chapter 21

**Payment in Kind**

**Disclaimer - See chapter one**

* * *

**Chapter twenty one**

Bobby lay back in the recliner chair that Liz had brought in to him. The nurse had spent her break in the room, as well as being present each time any doctor did an exam on either of the younger men; hell, when the lab tech came in to draw blood she had stood nearby. It was as if the woman had taken it upon herself to be the protector of the inhabitants of the room, himself included.

It made the older hunter rather sad, but he knew that nothing permanent could ever come of it. But as Liz had put it to him as she tucked a blanket over his legs, "I am married to my job, Bobby. But I wouldn't mind having someone to call or write to on occasion, or something else…Someone away from the hospital." The warm smile Liz sent his way left no doubt in Bobby's mind what she meant. Pulling the blanket a bit higher, he caught a whiff of the vanilla moisturizer that had transferred from Liz's hand to the flannel material. Sighing, he leaned back with a smile.

He still had it.

* * *

Dean stood in the doorway of the guest room of Alan's condo. While Kate was off talking to somebody named "Lady P." about the Hood and Transom – especially how Transom could have escaped months ago and no one have been aware of it until now – Sarah filled in the Tracy brothers on the condition of their youngest sibling. Staring in fascination at the painting over the low built-in book case, Dean almost laughed. It was similar to a picture that sat on Alan's entertainment center. A simple enough photo, it showed all five Tracy sons gathered near a pool. They were smiling and yet there was more than joy in the picture. Somehow they had managed to project a show of absolute unity. They seemed to be screaming at the world in defiance that together they could, and would, handle anything. But comparing the photo to the painting, Dean recalled Sam mentioning that the clouds seemed "off" in the artwork.

"See something you like?"

His eyes never leaving the painting, Dean gently traced Virgil's signature in the corner. "The clouds. He painted the clouds to resemble those spaceships you guys use."

Sarah laughed softly. "That picture hung in Dad's office for years and no one ever noticed that. Dad loaned it to Alan when he moved here for college. He's thinking of hanging it in his home office after the kid graduates." Walking up to the painting, she pointed to five clouds. "Thunderbird One- Scott's baby, fast as she comes, first on the scene. Thunderbird Two – the workhorse of the team, Virgil is the primary pilot. The worst argument we ever had was when I accidently scratched that big, green bug in training. I haven't flown her since," she added wryly. "Three, the rocket. Alan loves speed. He'll be the secondary for One but Three will be his. Four is our underwater vehicle."

"Gordon's, right?" Dean asked.

Smiling, Sarah nodded. "Yep, the water baby of the family loves his little sub. And Five – we all pull duty up on her. Yes, Dean, even I do." She interjected at Dean's shocked look. "But John is an astronomer, he is never happier than when he is among the stars. So Five has been his since the get go."

Staring once more at the Thunderbird-shaped clouds, Dean said softly. "We help people. A lot of people. But when we show up, it is when bad things, scary things, even unexplainable things are happening. People don't react well and they are usually pretty happy to see us go. We don't get paid, hell; we usually don't even get thanked." Bowing his head for a moment, his eyes were burning with intensity when he once more looked Sarah in the eye.

"What is it like when you, when the Thunderbirds arrive?"

Sarah thought about it for a moment before turning and sitting on a chaise lounge. Dean wasn't sure she was going to answer when she began to speak.

"First, you have to understand. International Rescue isn't called in for just anything. We are called when the situation is grave, when traditional rescue methods or equipment can't do the job. The Thunderbirds can't save everyone. But when we get there, people know that the odds have improved. They…" She closed her eyes before looking at Dean once more. "We give them hope, Dean."

Wandering out to the living room, Dean picked up the family picture – the one he had reclaimed from Detective Pettit - once more. He saw more this time than just the people. He saw the father, the sons, and the grandchildren. But he also saw the way Alan seemed to be at the center, as if the family was circling him, protecting him unconsciously.

"What would happen to International Rescue if anything happened to Alan?"

Sarah had followed Dean back out and thought about his question for a moment before answering. "I don't think Dad could handle it if we lost Alan. I'd give him a year. Scott would take on the burden of IR while Kate would focus on Tracy Enterprises. Virgil would try and support Scott as much as he could but I don't think Scott would cope with losing Allie any better than Dad. And Virg would eventually break under the burden of both the loss and trying to fill shoes he has never had to before. John and Gordon? Alan has always been the wildness, the freedom John could never allow himself; losing his baby brother would devastate him. Now Gordon and Alan are the "Terrible Twosome", our resident pranksters. But without Alan, Gordon would feel adrift, lost. When Alan was so sick with MRSA, Gordy admitted he was more scared of not being a big brother than he was after his accident. He would have rather been stuck in a wheelchair than in a world without his baby brother. Could the Tracys survive? Maybe. But the strength and endurance that allows us to do something like International Rescue? We couldn't do it without Alan."

Castiel's words echoed back into Dean's mind: _"__And because hope remained, the world could go on. As long as mankind had hope, they could continue. I can not tell you why, it is their secret to reveal, but because of the Tracys, the world has hope. They must be helped. Save Alan, you save his family. Save the Tracys, you help save the world__."_

"And hope remained and the world could go on." Sarah looked at Dean in puzzlement after his softly spoken words. Shaking himself free of his thoughts, Dean smiled at Sarah.

"OK, Red, where do we go from here?"

* * *

Cheryl Bugsbee watched as Liz talked to Dr. Brackett; saw the nod of approval and the pat on the shoulder the Chief of Medicine gave to the nurse. It took all she had not to take a swing at the other nurse. After the doctor left, others continued to approach Liz, asking questions or even just greeting her. _"Liz-a-witch," _Cheryl muttered to herself. Oh, she knew Liz's name but Cheryl had been suspicious of her ever since she had discovered the woman was a witch. _Wiccan_, Liz called herself, but Cheryl knew the truth.

_She shouldn't even be allowed among decent, God-fearing people. Muslims, Jews, pagans, they should all go back to where they came from. _Cheryl knew what she had been taught, that those people were out to get decent people like herself and destroy everything. That Liz was being promoted above her was proof of that.

And Cheryl had seen how Liz had brought that white-trash boy into the Tracy son's room. Oh, Liz had claimed it was under the instructions of Sarah Tracy. Then again, Sarah Tracy had been the niece of a lesbian. Maybe she was as much of a bad influence as Liz Naylor. _Someone_, Cheryl thought, _should tell Jeff Tracy what poor care his son is receiving. _

As Liz came back to the desk, she began to look through the files. Turning to Cheryl, she asked "Hey, Bugsme, have you seen the lab work for Sam Winchester?"

Placing a folder underneath another, Cheryl hid the very lab results Liz was looking for. "Why no, Lulu. I haven't. But the lab did call a while ago and said that you were to go down there. Something about an issue with some labs and that they were told to deal directly with you."

Liz had a bad feeling, but other than calling the other nurse a liar, she had no choice but to believe her. "Alright, Sam and Alan are both asleep. No one is to go into 321 without authorization from either myself or Dr. Brackett, understand?" Standing, she picked up her data pad and moved towards the stairwell. "Everything else should be stable. I called and Maggie is coming up to relieve you. They need coverage in maternity tonight. Jackie called and said they are having a baby boom. Must have been that ice storm last March." Chuckling as she started down the stairs, Liz would have waited a moment longer had she seen the vicious glare sent her way by Cheryl.

Rising from her place at the nurses' station, Cheryl made her way to room 321. Entering, she was pleased to see the Winchester's uncle, what's-his-name, dozing in the lounger. Giving Sam a cursorily check, Cheryl wondered if they shouldn't discharge him in the morning. Doubtless, he was the reason the Tracy boy had been injured. _Probably dragged the kid to a bad part of town._

Moving over to Alan, Cheryl checked his vitals. He had vastly improved since he was first brought in. _Maybe I should call the family since the daughter-in-law can't be bothered to watch over him. Really, leaving the poor boy to be watched over by – God, what was that man, a trucker or something?_

Wanting to be out of the room prior to Liz returning – doubtlessly furious when she discovered that she had been sent on a fool's errand – Cheryl walked swiftly to the door. Seeing the small symbol hanging next to the door frame, Cheryl reached up and snagged the ward that Bobby had hung by the door in order to block spirits from entering. _Filthy pagan objects. Probably Liz and her witchcraft._ Dropping the relic in her pocket, the nurse left, unaware of the risk she had left the men in the room to.

* * *

Leaving the condo, Dean watched in amazement as Sarah held out an object that looked like a PDA to him and explained how it worked. "OK, Kate has accessed the rental company files. As far as we can tell, Transom still has the rental car. We should be able to track the vehicle with the program on this."

"Sounds good. But just one question?" Sarah looked at him, curious. Dean held out his hands. "My car got towed. Not only did the dick of a detective declare it a crime scene, but it can't be driven at the moment. What – we take a cab and say "follow that car's GPS"? Because I think most cab drivers would just laugh at us."

Grinning, Sarah pulled out a set of keys. "If you are a good boy, Dean, I may let you drive _my_ baby later. And I only let Virgil do that once."

"How bad was your head injury?"

Opening the garage entrance, she answered, "No, smoke inhalation…" Pausing, she turned and looked at him oddly. "How did you know I couldn't drive because of doctor's orders?"

Dean gave his lopsided grin. "Because I love Sam but that is about the only way he gets to drive my Baby."

* * *

**_A/N - Dean now not only knows about the Thunderbirds but he now understands why it is so important that Alan be saved. His family could survive but would they stil be strong enough to continue with International Rescue if the youngest son were to die, especially at the hands of the Hood? It is doubtful. And Dean is getting to ride in the Thunderbird. Now, I have to ask you - should Dean get to drive the T-Bird?_**

**_I know I told many of you that I would post on Saturday but I had a loss in my family that had to be dealt with. So, I apologize and hope you like this chapter. The next one should be up soon. Thanks for your patience and support. - CC_**


	22. Chapter 22

**Payment in Kind**

**Chapter 22**

**_Dislcaimer - See chapter one_**

* * *

Cheryl Bugsbee sat at the desk, looking towards the stairwell to make sure Liz was not on her way back yet. _Time, _she thought, _to give the family an update. _With Alan's electronic medical records open on the computer, she called the number for next of kin. Cheryl felt a small thrill go through her at the though of talking to a living legend like Jeff Tracy. She had not been working here at the time Alan had previously been admitted but Alan's newest stay had some of the staff talking about that time, especially how good looking all five sons _and _the father had been.

"Tracy residence." Kate answered the home phone, having just gotten off from a second call with Lady Penelope. It annoyed the hell out of Kate that the British legal system had basically lost Transom, with the high-security facility where she had been thinking she was in a facility for the criminally insane –after a "depression" issue following the Hood's death – and the mental hospital thinking she was at a medium security facility (that had never heard of her). The whole thing smacked of computer tampering, something Corrine Transom excelled at. Apparently, the woman had even managed to create a false credit history and was now wanted for credit fraud in addition to her many other crimes.

"Yes, this is Cheryl Bugsbee from Mass General Hospital. I am trying to reach Jeff Tracy about his son, Alan."

Kate's heart stilled for a moment before she could speak. "A-Alan? What happened? We just spoke with Sarah not long ago. She said he is doing much better." Suddenly, Kate became suspicious. "Wait. Sarah said that Liz Naylor would call if need be. Why are you calling, Miss…?"

"Nurse Bugsbee. I can assure you, um…"

"This is Kate Tracy. I am also listed as an emergency contact for Alan. Dad isn't available at the moment. But I think I need some answers, now."

Cheryl swallowed. Kate Tracy, wife of the oldest Tracy, had also been discussed by people in regards to the last time Alan was here. A forceful personality was a polite way several phrased it. Liz had laughed at that and said, "Hell on wheels, is more in line with what I would say. No one messes with her family when Kate is around. But of course she would have to be a strong person. Marriage to a Tracy Man - it would take a woman with brass ones, trust me."

"Well, Mrs. Tracy, Alan is doing much better. I merely wanted to update you. I am also concerned about what is going on with his situation."

Kate had the feeling she wouldn't like this but decided to give this woman her moment. "Like what?"

"I hate to tell you, Mrs. Tracy but Alan is virtually alone. Nurse Naylor, allegedly at Sarah Tracy's instruction, moved some other patient in with your brother-in-law. She has also taken to monitoring who goes in there but has left that other patient's uncle in the room. I am sure these are not the kind of people your family would associate with."

Feeling her blood pressure rise, Kate clamped down on her temper. "As I understand it, Sarah told Liz to move Sam Winchester into Alan's room so that his uncle could keep an eye on both Alan and Sam while Sarah and Dean Winchester looked into who attacked them."

Cheryl was momentarily speechless. "Oh, um, yes. Well…You can never tell with her kind, now can you?"

Confused, Kate thought of the few times she had met Liz Naylor. There was when Alan was sick, Sarah's wedding…Finally, she spoke, "I'm sorry, her kind?"

In a confiding tone, Cheryl answered. "Liz. She is a witch. Oh, she calls herself a Wiccan, but she you know what I mean. Pagans, Jews, that sort."

If Cheryl could have seen Kate's face in that moment, she would have run for the hills. As it was, she shuddered at the coldness of the Tracy wife's voice. "Nurse Bugsme," Kate began, unknowingly co-opting Liz's "nickname" for Cheryl. "Do you know my name, my full name?"

"Um, Katherine Tracy."

"Katherine Eppes Tracy. Many people think Eppes is Old English, especially when joined with a name like Katherine. But it is actually Yiddish."

"Yiddish?" Cheryl mused, before paling. "But…but that would make…"

"My family Jewish? Oh, yeah. Tell Dr. Brackett to be expecting a call from me. And I hope they have someone to cover your shift, because you better not be within a hundred feet of Alan by the time I call back to check on him, got it?"

Cheryl sat dumbly, still holding the receiver, the dial tone clearly heard in the silence.

"Cheryl?" Maggie, a cheerful medical assistant, came up to the desk. "Liz tell you? They need an RN in maternity tonight. But with only two patients up here, I should be able to handle it fine. With Liz, of course."

"Of course," Cheryl muttered, grabbing her data pad and getting up. "Oh," she pulled out the lab work she had hidden earlier. "Nurse Naylor was looking for this." Thinking for a moment, Cheryl also yanked the protective ward that she had stolen from the hospital room and put it on Liz's chair. She wasn't about to also be accused of theft.

Watching Cheryl practically run to the elevator, Maggie shook her head. Sitting down in the still warm seat, Maggie began to update files, all the while thinking that the nurse was acting like she had seen a ghost.

* * *

It wasn't his baby, but Dean had to admit that Sarah's black T-Bird convertible was an incredibly sweet ride. He didn't even mind being relegated to shotgun. Especially when Sarah turned on the radio to a classic rock station out of Manchester, New Hampshire. As Foreigner's Hot Blooded blared out of the speakers before she turned the radio down a bit, Dean allowed himself the luxury of a quick smile.

Sarah pulled onto the street, making her way down the virtually deserted road in silence. Finally, she sighed and spoke to Dean. "Um, Dean, can I ask you something?"

"Sure." Dean was focused on the small screen, watching as they drew closer to the GPS target. When Sarah remained silent, Dean turned back to her. "Well, Red? What is it?"

"Did you…"Sarah seemed lost for a moment before continuing. "Do you have everything we need in that bag you tossed in the trunk?"

Staring at Sarah, he gave her the teasing smile he usually reserved for Sam. "You know I do, we went over that before we left the condos. What do you really want to know?"

Knuckles white against the steering wheel, Sarah worried her lip for a moment before softly asking, "Did you really die? I mean, not gone for five minutes and brought back by a doctor. Die, as in dead and buried and brought back somehow like Lazarus?"

Dean leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Yeah. Man, Kate Tracy's research really is good." He sighed deeply. "I haven't told most of this to Sam. And you can't tell him either. He knows some. He knows I died, went to Hell," at Sarah's soft gasp, he smiled. "Yeah. Hell. I had made a deal with a demon. My soul for Sammy's life. Can't go the other direction without a soul." The words that Dean forced down usually boiled to the surface. "Do you know a month on Earth is like a decade in Hell? I was there for forty years. For the first thirty years, I suffered the torments of the damned every single day. And after, oh, around seventeen or eighteen hours, Alastair – that was my demon torturer's name – he would take me off a rack and tell me all I had to do to make it stop was agree to become his apprentice. After ten years, he wasn't content with physical torture. He would tell me about Sam. He would say how my baby brother was becoming reckless and dangerous. He told me how Sam was headed to Hell with some of the things he attempted to try and get me back. Somewhere in the twenty-ninth year, Alastair told me how Sam kept approaching cross-roads demons, and that he was thinking of taking Sam up on his offer."

"What was the offer?" Sarah asked quietly when Dean remained silent.

"His life for mine. Sam was offering to take my place in Hell." A single tear tracked down Dean's cheek. Sarah didn't even think he was aware of it. "So for the last decade I was in Hell, it was a slow descent into becoming the very thing I had always hated."

"Dean, it wasn't your fault. You were doing whatever you had to in order to protect Sam. You should tell him."

Shaking his head, Dean stared out at the quiet city streets, not even seeing the few cars, or other rare traffic of a late Boston night in December. "No. Sam would hate knowing what I did. And even if he could forgive what I did, he would take on some of the guilt. I have protected that kid all my life. I'll do it as often as I have to."

Looking down at the device in his hands, Dean nodded. "OK, this says we are almost there. Time to end this. Let's get Casper's bitch so we can give him some major heartburn."

Pulling into a park and ride garage near a subway station, Sarah jumped out a moved to wait on the sidewalk for Dean. He pulled the bag from the trunk, then when he stepped up beside her, she surprised Dean by leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. Raising an eyebrow, he snarked, "Not that I am complaining, but what's that for?"

"Just so you know that I wish I had been blessed with a big brother like you, rather than my bitch of an older sister."

"Don't get along with her?"

"She's dead." Seeing the look on Dean's face, Sarah shrugged. "Holly resented my very existence and did her best to make my life miserable. When I was sixteen and we were about to graduate, Holly – in a drug induced rage – set our home on fire, killing our parents and nearly killing me. She died of her own injuries a few days later." Smiling sadly, she shrugged. "Like I said, I would have loved to have had an older sibling like you."

Pulling a small bag from her coat pocket, she popped a few pieces of candy in her mouth. "Boston Baked Beans? I am absolutely addicted to these. Candy coated peanuts."

Dean grinned at her change of subject. "Tell you what, let's get these guys, then we can find a twenty-four hour store, get some peanut M&M's, some of those BB pellets and celebrate."

Together, the pair went deeper into the garage, determined to kick some ass, save their brothers and celebrate with candy coated peanuts.

* * *

Three Tracy Brothers – along with one Tracy wife – were sitting quietly. Scott stood at the window, watching the surf roll in over and over. It was so peaceful compared to how he felt at the moment. Virgil stared into space, unconsciously humming. If any of the gathered family was listening, they would have known how stressed he was. Gordon sat with the picture his Dad had taken at of the boys with their mother on their last vacation. He had been eight, and could clearly recall her warm, loving smile. In his darkest moments, just the memory of that smile could still warm him. It had always bothered him that Alan could never really remember Lucille Tracy. Gordon could recall how Lucy would watch Alan with so much wonder and joy. With a small smile, he realized it was not all that different from how he would watch his only younger brother – at least when Alan didn't know it.

Kate Tracy, in the mean time, was watching all three men with concern. She knew Gordon was very protective of his baby brother and was afraid for him. But it was the guilt that radiated from Virgil and Scott that worried her the most. The two older brothers had been with their father on the rescue at the Hood's diamond mine.

"None of this is our fault," Kate stated in the silence.

"Not yours, Kate." Virgil said softly, finally looking her in the face. "And Gordon wasn't a Thunderbird back then. But Scott and I were there that day. We didn't rescue the Hood. And now he is back, when we thought we never had to worry about him again. He is trying to destroy our family again. God, do you know what this is going to do to Dad? He had finally stopped having nightmares about the Hood."

"If it was anyone's fault," Scott finally spoke, never turning from the window, "it was mine. I am the one who held Dad back from trying to reach the Hood. I knew it was suicide to try and go further into the mine. We needed to get the workers out before the section we were in collapsed. And the rest of the mine was too unstable."

"The only one at fault here," Kate answered firmly, "was the Hood. The man was at fault for the lives at risk. He endangered all those people in the mine and never accepted responsibility for his own actions. The fact that he tried to not only kill all of you up on Five but to planned on destroying the reputation of International Rescue, showed that he was a coward who blamed others for his own actions. And then to try and kill a fourteen-year-old boy just because his father was there was the ultimate despicable act. May I remind you that three of the charges against the Hood were the attempted murder of Alan? I have seen criminals like Trahn Belegant for years, both when I was with the FBI and people my parents helped put away while I was growing up. They need to accept responsibility but never will. And no one in this room needs to assume responsibility for his acts. We just need to do what we are already doing. Protect the world from the consequences of men like the Hood and be the best people we can be."

While she had been speaking, Kate had stood up from behind the desk and walked over to her husband. When she placed a hand on his arm, Scott turned to look at his wife and gave a smile as he pulled her into his arms. "What would I do without you, Katie?"

Grinning, Katie rested her head on her husband's shoulder. "Don't you ever try and find out, Fly Boy."

Hating to disturb the sweet moment between his brother and sister-in-law, Virgil cleared his throat. Once all eyes were on him, he asked the question that had been in the back of all of their minds.

"So…do we tell Dad?"

* * *

Liz stormed back up into the ward, furious. The lab tech, Uma, told her that she had dropped off the lab results personally. They had been handed to Cheryl Bugsbee when Uma had to run up to the OR to draw more blood. "I'm gonna yank every strand of that peroxide blond hair out of her head and shove it back down her lying throat," Liz muttered as she burst from the stairwell.

"Where is the fire, Liz?" Dr. Brackett spoke up as he nearly ran into her in the hallway.

"A minor issue," Liz ground out, even as she kept walking.

Sighing, Brackett suspected who had raised the ire of the usual level-headed woman. "Liz, please…no blood on the floor. It looks bad." Liz paused, looking Brackett right in the eye. "I don't know what Cheryl did to get you furious, but I checked on her employee tag. Her sensor has her already in maternity. She is going to be escorted to the current Head of Nursing at the end of her shift. More than likely, she is going to be put on unpaid leave for at least a week, maybe two."

Liz stared at him. "For hiding a lab result and sending me on a wild goose chase?"

"OK, definitely two weeks. No, she is being suspended for her intolerance. Or," Dr. Brackett commented wryly, "for saying something in that nature to a patient's family. It was either suspend her or face the further wrath of Kate Tracy."

Anything Liz was about to say was frozen in her throat as the temperature in the hallway suddenly dropped. A howling wind whipped through the passageway, forcing both of the medical personnel to the ground. Trying to drag herself to her feet, Liz eventually managed to get upright and staggered towards the only currently occupied room in the ward. She didn't know what, she didn't even understand how she knew, but Liz knew that the men in that room were at risk and she had to get to them.

* * *

Alan Tracy had begun to regain consciousness in just the last few minutes. He probably would have been perfectly happy to have gone back to sleep but a sudden chill brought him closer to the surface. The pain and discomfort throughout his body were only heightened by the dropping temperature in the air around him. Looking towards the other side of the room, he had half expected to see an open window. Instead, Alan saw Sam Winchester stirring in another bed and an older, grizzled man dozing in a nearby chair.

To Alan's alarm, the older man suddenly jumped up, awake and alert. Moving quickly, the man grabbed a bag from under Sam's bed. But before he could do anything with the bag, the door to the room slammed open with an ominous crash. An arctic-cold wind howled in, tossing anything not tied down into the air. Unfortunately, that included the three occupants of the room.

As they all groaned in pain, Bobby tried to place himself in front of the wounded younger men and pulled his shogun out of the duffle bag. He hadn't been a hunter for as long as he had been to know that somehow the protections he had placed on the room had been breached and the very thing they were trying to defend themselves from was about to strike.

* * *

**_A/N - OK, first off...Thank you for all your kindness. I appreciate more than words can say._**

**_Then...You all hate Cheryl, love Liz and are torn for Dean driving the T-Bird. Things are coming along, and it won't be THAT much longer. But, even though Christmas was weeks ago for us, it is just before the holiday in the story. Please review, encourage we meager authors we plead for attention...reviews are such a small act but mean so much to the author...CC_**


	23. Chapter 23

**PAYMENT IN KIND**

**_Disclaimer - see chapter one_**

* * *

**Chapter twenty three**

"LIZ!" Maggie screamed from the Nurses' station. Trying desperately to reach the nurse, the frightened medical assistant clutched at a railing, trying desperately to get down the hall. Seeing Dr. Brackett lying dazed on the floor, she pried one hand from the rail and clutched him to her chest.

"Maggie!" Liz called out. "Get the doc behind the desk! There are ice packs, put one on his head and call security. Whatever you do, don't come out until I tell you to."

Nodding in fear, the MA continued to pull the fallen doctor until they were both safe from the flying debris. Fumbling for the phone, Maggie held it to her ear with one hand while the other pressed an ice pack to Dr. Brackett's head. "This is Nurse Station 18. We have a code 1. No, I don't think it is a code 2." Ducking as a glass object – Maggie wasn't sure exactly what it was – shattered over her head, the younger woman screamed, "Trust me, I know the difference between violent and a non-violent disturbance. And this is definitely a code 1!"

As the lights flickered and the icy cold wind whipped through the hall, Liz blinked as the micro-sized particles blown up by the wind made her eyes tear. In the haze, she thought she saw a blonde woman at the end of the hall. "Ma'am!" she screamed, praying the woman would hear her. "Get out of the hallway. Please, get in a room or something." Wiping at her eyes, trying to clear them, Liz looked back and saw no trace of the woman. Thank God, the woman had listened and was no where to be seen.

Forcing herself to move against the fierce wind, Liz was almost at room 321 when she saw someone else standing near the doorway to the room. "Sir, please, get out of the area." Getting closer, Liz felt her soul freeze in terror.

While the wind tore at her hair and clothing and everything from paperwork to framed pictures lining the walls were being tossed about as if a tornado was making its way down the hallway, the man stood silent and unmoving. Bald, he had no hair to blow in the wind, but the Oriental robe that was his primary attire remained still as if there were no movement in the air. A voice that seemed to come from the figure in front of her, yet from everywhere and no where, echoed in the hallway. "Unless you want to share their fates, be gone woman."

Her violet eyes became as cold as the amethyst they were so often compared to as Liz screamed at, at…whatever this _thing_ was. "I don't know who you think you are, you son of a bitch, but it will be a cold day in Hell before I let you hurt those boys."

The words had barely left her mouth when the man turned to fully face Liz. She barely had time to register that his eyes now matched his garment – bright red – before he raised his hand and she found herself flung into a wall opposite the room. Stunned and in pain, the nurse crumpled to the ground, helpless.

* * *

Sarah and Dean raced silently through the garage, the only sound the few cars passing by and the occasional rumble of the subway trains as the rambled through the city. Dean held on tight to the bag containing the tools of his trade while Sarah focused on the tracking device in her hands.

Motioning with his free hand, Dean gestured for Sarah to cling to the wall. Shaking her head, she moved forward slightly. Suddenly, Sarah pressed herself into the cement walls. Mouthing "car" to Dean, the pair looked anxiously at the vehicle in question.

No one was in the car but less than ten feet away, looking across the way at a large building that seemed somehow familiar to Dean, was a woman dressed in black, from a half-veil hat to some rather impractical boots. Dean pointed at the box in the woman's hands. Made of some kind of dark wood, it was painted with intricate Asian designs. Sarah and Dean began to silently move towards Transom and were just about there when a car tore through the nearly empty garage, driving at a speed far greater than the posted ten MPH limit. Dean grabbed Sarah around the waist and yanked her to the ground, rolling with her until they were pressed against one of the few cars in the structure. It struck Dean, as they waited for the vehicle to pass them by, that the moment was strangely similar to when Alan had saved Sam just a few days earlier.

Corrine Transom whirled around, sure she had heard someone. In the glare of the headlights from the passing car, she saw Dean Winchester rolling on the floor, a canvas bag sliding from his hand. Pulling her night-vision goggles from her face, Transom was shocked to see the young woman he helped to her feet even as he reached for the bag once more. "A _Tracy_," she hissed, saying the name as if it was a curse. Then again, to her it probably was. Dropping the goggles, not seeming to notice as they shattered on the unforgiving cement, the madwoman fled towards the stairwell.

"Dean," Sarah snapped, "you head after her. I am going to take the other stairwell. Both come out at the subway. We can not let her get on a train or we may never find her."

The pair separated, both determined to stop Corrine Transom and her other-worldly spouse before they could further harm their brothers.

* * *

"Sam! Hold onto Alan! And both ya boys, stay behind me!" Bobby yelled out to Sam, watching in satisfaction from the corner of his eye as the younger Winchester grabbed Alan and yanked him back, pulling themselves into a corner of the room. Pushing himself against the fierce, biting wind, Bobby struggled to get to his shotgun. But with a gesture from his hand, the other-worldly figure in the doorway pushed the gun further away until it was just outside the door.

"You old fool. Do you really think you can stand between me and my final reckoning with that son of a Tracy?" The Hood glared malevolently at Bobby. "I may have failed to kill him the last time but I shall not leave this Earth until the Baby Thunderbird is crushed and his family shattered by the loss of their fledgling."

Alan struggled to remain conscious, his eyes filled with pain and anger. "You bastard. My family did nothing to you! My dad told me what happened. They were lucky to save the people you had enslaved in your illegal diamond mine. And if you hadn't tried to go out the other direction in order to escape capture by the authorities, the Thunderbirds could have saved you. But you lived…" Alan gasped at that point, the pain of his injuries making speech difficult. But he carried on, saying, "And then you come after my family. You nearly killed them all up on Five. My family had nightmares for years after that. Especially my dad. What happened at the Bank of London…" Alan glared at the Hood. "You tried to kill me just because you wanted to hurt my dad. It's almost insulting. You keep trying to kill me because of some twisted notion of "the sins of the father". If you want to kill me, at least make it because of something I did."

"Oh," the Hood almost crooned. "It is because of something you did. You caused me to fail in achieving my revenge against International Rescue. Not only did you help save their lives but you spoiled my plan to cast the blame on them for the robberies."

"Yeah," Alan grumbled. "Sorry for not letting you murder my entire family but for also for helping to stop you from robbing the Bank of London. What was I thinking?"

Anything further Alan might have said was cut off by the Hood holding out his hand and clenching it into a fist. "You insolent pup. You filthy mongrel. For all your family's sins, for your own misdeeds, I would be the just one in slaying you. But for most of all, thinking that your blood is worthy of merging with my own, that you could marry my niece, she who shows such promise…It was bad enough that my weakling brother raised her with such foolish ideas of right and wrong, but that her loyalty, nay, her very heart, was stolen by the Tracys was an even graver insult. And now, you plan to wed my heir and breed filthy mongrels with her pure blood…The blood of kings runs in her veins…"

A sudden "boom" echoed in the room and Alan fell back, gasping for air. Sam held him close, all three men watching as the spirit dispersed into the night. Liz stepped into the room, Bobby's shotgun in her hand. Moving towards the trio, she handed the weapon to Bobby as she helped Alan back into bed. Turning to where Bobby was settling Sam into the chair he himself had recently been occupying, Liz smiled. "Huh, rock salt fired into a ghost really helps to get rid of it. You were right, Bobby. Very cool."

Bobby grabbed a small canister of salt from his bag. Shutting the door, he poured a line of salt across the doorway. "That'll hold him for a bit, but that is one very determined – and extremely pissed-off – spirit. He'll be back."

Groaning with pain, Sam nodded. "Yeah, but we'll be ready. We can handle this. I think." Turning to Alan, he raised an eyebrow. "Thunderbirds? Your family is International Rescue? I mean, it makes sense when you think about it, but seriously?"

Alan smiled. "I told you," he croaked out, his already painful throat now feeling as if he had been gargling razor blades. "My family is special."

"And that guy," Liz added, "is nuts. Was he like that in life?"

Alan nodded, wanting desperately to go back asleep but too afraid to. Sam just shook his head.

"And I thought my family was strange."

* * *

Dean burst out of the stairwell, looking frantically in both directions, trying to get a clue as to where Transom could have gone. The subway platform was empty, with bits of trash falling to the wayside, only to catch in the slight breeze that trickled in. Dean knew from Alan's explanation of the T system in Boston that few trains ran at that time of night but that the Transit Police did their best to keep the city's homeless or any criminal types from the platforms after dark.

Moving cautiously along, Dean was stunned by a sudden pounding to the middle of his back. The bag he had been carrying fell from his hands and Dean rolled to his back, ready to get to his feet and fight. The click from a bullet sliding into a chamber stopped him cold.

"You couldn't just let us kill him, could you? Oh, no. You and your goody-goody brother had to get in our way." Transom glared at Dean, pointing the gun directly at his head. "Well, with you out of my way, I will find a way to clear the path so that Alan Tracy will die. But first - It is time for you to die, Dean Winchester."

**_A/N - OK, secrets are out, bad guys are at their worse and yes this is a short chapter. But in a cliffie like that, with my flu (and the latest foot plus of snow we received), I had to stop there or fall into the absyss._**

**_Any of my Thunderbird fans. You know I write in movieverse, so there is now a Thunderbird category under movies. I have moved all of my Tracy Family series and Christmas Bells (my TB/ seaQuest crossover) to there. This does not affect my Charmed, Numb3rs, Criminal Minds or seaQuest stories. And this story is staying where it is as well. Please reiew, I would appreciate it._**


	24. Chapter 24

**Payment in Kind**

**_Disclaimer - If I have said it once, I have said it two dozen times...I don't own them._**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Four**

The wind that had been tearing apart the ward had died suddenly but the coldness still permeated the air, sending a chill through Maggie's body. She longed to sneak out from behind the desk but Liz's words of caution held her back. The phone above her rang and Maggie reached up to grab the receiver.

"Nurses station eighteen." Maggie's eyes went wide, and her voice came in a squeak. "What do you mean security can't get on the floor? The doors and the elevator are jammed? You have got to be kidding me! No, I don't know who is responsible? I haven't seen anyone. But I have heard things, I think, blowing up. And I know I just heard a shot gun blast. Listen, buddy boy, I grew up in Coos County…You know, right on the New Hampshire – Canadian border. Eighteen years of Moose season, I know what a shotgun sounds like! We have a nurse, a doctor, two patients and a family member on this floor. I don't care if you have to tear those doors off the hinges. Get your asses up here! Or do you want to explain to the Tracys or the board or the Boston Herald how you ate coffee and donuts while we were getting murdered up here?"

Just as suddenly as the wind had died down, the icy gale began to rip down the hallway again. The wind tore the receiver right out of Maggie's hand and she bent over Dr. Brackett, and began to pray. _Liz, _she thought fearfully, _I don't know what you are doing but you best do something fast._

* * *

In the room, Liz was placing a bandage over the spot where Alan's IV had been violently ripped from his hand. "Once we get you settled in a new room Alan, we'll start a new IV."

"Do you have to?" he groaned.

Before Liz could admonish him, the wind began to howl in the corridor once more. Even though the door blocked most of the unholy wind from the room, the occupants still felt as if they had been plunged into a deep freeze. Picking up the shotgun, Bobby reloaded it as he gestured to Sam.

Still somewhat wobbly on his feet, the younger Winchester brother made his way over to Alan's bed. With Liz's aid, they managed to get the bed into the corner, hoping to provide some shelter.

Alan leaned into Sam, scared beyond all imagine. "S-Sam? Can we stop him?"

Keeping a protective arm in front of Alan, he asked, "How did you stop him before? When he was alive?'

The younger man was obviously dazed and confused and it showed in his speech. "Um, he, he kept tossing me around. He choked me, he kept using his powers. I had discovered that when he used his powers it weakened him. But I would have died if Tin-Tin hadn't come in when she did."

"Tin-Tin?" Sam asked, puzzled, before the pieces fell into place. "Tin-Tin - your fiancée - is the Hood's niece? Holy…"

"She's nothing like him, neither are her folks." Alan interupted, "But she has his powers. She hates to use them. Says that the powers can corrupt your soul."

Rising to head back towards Bobby, Sam only made it to the recliner before he had to sit and rest. Waving the older hunter back, he leaned back before straightening and looked over at the man he had called "Uncle" as a child. Sam caught Bobby's eyes briefly even as the other man positioned himself behind the empty bed. The hunters knew all too well about psychic powers and how they could twist into something evil. _Was this what Dean is afraid I could become? _Sam thought to himself. _Someone so consumed by my powers that I could place myself above those I see as lesser beings? _

Bobby longed to go to Sam and wipe the fears that all too clearly were displayed on his face. He knew, even if the boy's own Daddy hadn't, that Sam didn't have an evil bone in his body. Sam would die before he ever let himself become the kind of monster that the Hood had been…

And that scared Bobby more than he would ever like to admit.

* * *

"What?" asked Transom. "No clever, trademark, Dean Winchester comeback? Nothing at all? I think I'm insulted that you think me unworthy of your attention."

Dean glared at the woman, determined to focus on the woman and not the weapon she had pointed at him. "Well, what can I say, Train Wreck? I have some very high standards. And sick bitches who do the nasty with the dead just don't get my juices flowing."

Anger making her shake for a moment, Transom drew in a deep breath in order to calm herself. "You won't make me lose my temper, Dean. I may call you Dean, yes? I mean, why be so formal in your last moments of life? Soon, I will kill you and even if my beloved does not kill your precious baby brother and the man you view more as a father than you did John Winchester – ever feel a tad guilty about that, by the way? – without you around, Sam will soon fall. If demons don't get him, it will because they can use him. And if they can use him, the angels will kill him. Oh, yes, Dean. I know all that. You would be amazed at what the dead know. My love told me everything." Her smile cold and cruel, Transom continued. "And once you and Sam are dead, Bobby Singer's heart will break. He will be easy pickings. Assuming he doesn't take his own life in grief before demons get to him. One way or the other, you will all pay for interfering in Trahn Belegant's plan for justice."

"Justice?" Dean questioned from his rather awkward position. "What was that? Trying to make a fourteen-year-old kid an orphan or trying to murder him in front of his father? Or maybe it is going after a nice guy because, oh lordy, he dared to fall in love with the psycho's niece – who I assume is a much nicer person than her uncle?"

"That," Transom glared at Dean as a train began to rumble towards the station, causing a mild shaking of the ground Dean was lying on, "is something you will never know, is it?"

"Hey, Bucky Bimbette!"

The sudden voice made both Dean and Transom look over. Sarah Tracy stood a few feet away. She suddenly flung something at Transom, yelling, "Catch!"

Corrine Transom was confused by the sudden interference, shifting her weapon slightly, before feeling multiple projectiles hit her face. Her finger reflectively squeezed on the trigger, a single bullet discharging into the air near Sarah even as she fell backwards onto the tracks below. She would have had to worry about a dislocated shoulder and three cracked ribs…

If the subway train hadn't run her over.

* * *

Liz looked over at Bobby, her eyes huge with confusion and fear. As the unnatural wind beat at the door to the room, Bobby tried to smile with a confidence he didn't feel. Sam forced himself out of the chair, stumbling over to Alan's bed. He didn't know how much good he would do, but Sam was determined that this _thing_ that was after Alan would have to get through him first.

Alan grasped Sam's arm as the other man stumbled towards him, almost falling. _Please God, _Alan prayed, _don't let these people be hurt further trying to protect me from that monster._

Everyone in the room almost fell back in shock at the glass window panel on the door suddenly shattered under the force of the Hood's unholy wrath. As they ducked from the bits of flying glass, they then had to hold on tight to anything not in motion, so as not to be tossed about in the wind. The cold force of the Hood made it as if a hurricane had blown into the room. The chair where Bobby had been resting – and Sam had just vacated – was pushed back in the room, not being locked to the floor like the beds. To their combined horror, the chair went back with enough force to crack the large picture window on the far end of the room. As the recliner repeatedly beat against the glass, finally shattering it under the continued impact. The gale began to whip around the room, not allowing anyone to move closer as the wind from the open window began to slowly scatter the salt.

* * *

**_A_**/**_N -Saved Dean, killed Transom (was that gory enough for you?), and further endangered the people in the room. So...you like? I have one more shorter chapter and then a rather long one. So the next chapter will be up by the weekend and the final chapter will be up in a week. I am being encouraged to do a sequel, and would like your opinion. Reviews are love, love keeps us warm, and I am having trouble seeing out some of my windows due to the snow...REVIEW ME BABY!!! CC_**


	25. Chapter 25

**Payment in Kind**

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

**_Disclaimer - do you know things older than twenty-five years are considered antinque? Sigh. I am an antique. Getting old. _**

**_So is disclaiming..._**

* * *

Dean slowly stood, wide-eyed as the subway train skidded past him. Sarah moved over towards him, clutching her upper left arm. Looking at her with concern, he pried her hand away, saying, "Red! She shot you?"

Sarah shook her head. "Barely a scratch, I won't even need stitches. Grab the box," she gestured to the Oriental box on the station floor. "I saw a barrel outside, it's been used by homeless people before but there aren't any there at the moment. Burn that son of a bitch. Then grab my car and park it over by the hospital. We're right across from Mass General. Call 911 on your way, tell them a woman tried to mug you and she fell onto the tracks. If they ask why you left the scene, tell them you couldn't get a cell signal. Take your cell out now and act like you can't get a signal. But don't look at the cameras."

Dean did as Sarah instructed, taking the keys discretely from her and grabbing his bag of "tools" as he began to leave. Pausing at the stairwell, he asked, "Hey, what did you throw at her anyhow?"

Sarah shrugged. "My Boston Baked Beans. Call it an impulse, but I really didn't want her to shoot you."

"Thanks, I think," Dean grinned. "Huh. Death by candy. Sweet."

He was gone before Sarah could find anything to throw at him.

* * *

Pushing Alan and Liz further into the corner, Sam's eyes watered from the debris being blown around in the room. Bobby tried to get a firm position to aim his shotgun at the spirit. As the last of the salt was sucked off of the doorframe, the door smashed open. Raising his weapon in order to try and blow the Hood away, Bobby's arms shook with the force of the energy that the spirit was using.

The Hood glowered at the people gathered in the room. Angry thoughts flooded his consciousness. _What was it about Alan Tracy that made everyone want to protect that boy? He was, and is, nothing, a nobody. Alan Tracy should have died years ago. He should have never beaten me, saved his family. I still can not understand how Alan, a mere boy, could resist my mind control. _Glaring in malice, he felt the psychic energy from the Winchester boy who had placed himself in front of Alan. The Hood froze for a moment as he felt a trace of that energy coming from Alan Tracy as well. _Of course, _the Hood thought. _It is only a fragment of my powers, or the promise of my niece, but Alan has psychic energy flowing through him as well. _While he could use his powers on Sam and Alan, it would be far more difficult than if he used it on others.

His powers unnaturally stronger now that his body was no longer the weak vessel it had been in life, Belegant mentally pushed at the older man in the room. The shotgun clutched in the man's hands wavered, as his arms trembled from the force of the Hood's mind. To the horror of those in the room – at least the living people – the weapon flew out of Bobby's hands and out the broken window.

Without the weapon pointed at him any longer, Belegant moved further into the room, a malevolent smile on his face. Holding out a hand, the bed where Alan, Sam and Liz were on began to shake and rock. Being on the edges of the bed in an attempt to shelter Alan, Sam and Liz were knocked onto the floor, while Alan was thrown into the wall. Pain spread throughout his upper body as darkness once more claimed him.

The forceful wind being generated by the spirit pushed Sam half under the bed while Liz found herself starting to move towards the broken window. "Gotcha!" Bobby yelled, grabbing the nurse around the waist and pulling her close, trying to shelter her.

The Hood smiled coldly and moved closer to the unconscious youth on the bed. _Finally, _he sighed, _finally you will die, Alan Tracy._

_I don't think so. _

Liz looked up and gasped. The blonde woman she had seen in the hallway earlier now stood between Alan and his attacker. "Bobby…" she gasped. "I think…" Liz clutched his arm in shock. She had always believed in ghosts, but now to see two directly in front of her…

Bobby just nodded. Dean had told him about the Tracy mother protecting her baby even in death. He couldn't help but smile a bit at the fiercely protective stance the woman still held as she appeared between her child and the spirit that wanted her baby dead.

_Lucille Tracy, _the Hood stated coldly. _The woman who inspired a love so great as to inspire the Gods of Olympus to try and save the world. And they will be unable to save their precious one from me. You can not fight me. If you do, you will be unable to watch over your children. You will have to surrender and cross over._

Lucy Tracy smiled, the same smile that she had bestowed upon her youngest son – along with practically ever other feature, from her hair and eyes to her confident personality. _I don't have to stop you. I just had to delay you. Sarah Jane and Dean Winchester are taking care of stopping you._

The Hood stopped cold as if he sensed something happening. _NOOOOOOOO! _He yelled, furious beyond all measure. For a moment a bright flame seemed to fill the room…and then there was silence. The Hood was gone.

Bending over the still figure on the bed, Lucy ran a gentle hand over her baby's face. _My precious angel, my little surprise. _She looked up as Sam stood up and Bobby and Liz approached. _He's a good boy, isn't he? _She kissed Alan on the forehead. _I promise you my baby, I have never been far from you or your brothers. I am with all of my boys…even my biggest baby. _Smiling at Sam, she winked, _but never tell Jeff I call him that. _As suddenly as Lucy had appeared, she faded away. The scent of lavender still lingered in the air, even as Alan began to stir on the bed. Bobby moved to put Sam on the other bed and Liz began to treat the injured Alan. From down the hallway, they could hear the sounds of other arriving, voices calling out questions and checking to see if the people on the floor were alright.

_Better late than never,_ Sam thought wryly.

* * *

Dean stood by the barrel watching the last remnant of the monster known as the Hood burn into ashes. As the first responders pulled up outside of the subway station, Dean slipped in the back entrance of the garage. He had to get to the car and get it back down to the street. Not to mention, hide the bag of weapons before rejoining Sarah Tracy. Jingling the keys in anticipation, Dean stopped and stared at the building Transom had been watching earlier. Mass General Hospital loomed in the night skyline. Damn. She had been watching Alan and Sam's room all along. Well, they never had to worry about that couple again. His brother was safe, Alan was safe, and Dean was gonna get to drive a 1957 T-Bird. He wished it was summer so he could have gone for a spin with the top down.

Life was just about as close to perfect as it could get for a Winchester.

* * *

Half a world away, Jeff Tracy was lying in his own bed for the first time since the whole episode with Emily had begun. Brains was manning command and control, allowing all of the Tracys to be getting a good night's sleep. Kate had left a message that they needed to speak but Jeff, who had not been expected back until morning, had decided to let the family get some rest.

Everything seemed to be balancing out for the Tracys. His daughter-in-law, Emily, was recovering nicely, John was actually sleeping in a regular bed and baby Keith was rapidly gaining weight and doing well, to the delight of his parents and pediatrician alike. Now if he could only know that his own baby was going to be alright. Jeff was tempted to call Sarah, but he knew she would call when she had answers. As he began to drift off to sleep, the scent of lavender teased his nose. In that place between asleep and awake, Jeff heard his beloved Lucy whisper, _"Our baby is fine, Rocket Man. He'll come home soon. Rest and be ready, my love."_

With a smile on his face, Jeff Tracy fell asleep, confident that all was right with his world.

* * *

**_A/N - yes, a very short chappie. But coming up soon will be a very long one. And the final one of the story. Thanks for the support. Hope you enjoyed it._**

**_And yes, I will be doing a sequel. Just need a break first. Now review, peoples...Laters!! CC_**


	26. Chapter 26

**Payment in Kind**

**_Disclaimer - For the last time (in this story), Kripke owns the boys in the Impala and Andersen owns the lads in the Thunderbirds. I own the foot (or more) of snow due in the next twenty-four hours. And a new shovel, oh, goody. And if one person rubs in about great weather were they are..._**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Six**

Dean made his way back down the stairs to the subway platform, only to be halted by a member of the Boston police department. "I'm sorry, sir. This is an accident scene. You will have to go to the next station. That is…"

"Oh, no," Detective Pettit interrupted. "I am sure Mr. Winchester has so much that he can add to this investigation."

Glaring at the cop, Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and put his chin in the air. "Seriously, a detective investigating a mugging that went bad? Don't you guys have any mobsters or gang-bangers?"

Detective Simpson tugged at his partner's sleeve. "We have plenty of them as well. But there are reports of a disturbance at Mass General and we were asked to respond. And now there is this. The Commissioner is feeling the heat from the high mucky-mucks. Someone coming after a member of such a prominent and connected family isn't good for Boston's image."

Sarah pulled away from the medical examiner who had been asking her questions. "I would hope that the Boston PD would be as diligent for John Smith as they are for a member of my family."

Simpson placed a hand on Sarah's arm. "Of course we would, Woody. But the name Tracy makes the news. And repeated attacks on the son of a man with Jeff Tracy's prominence…well, no city wants that kind of rep, right?"

Her lips tight, Sarah nodded. "Fine. Are we done here? Dean and I had just grabbed some of Alan and Sam's stuff from the condos. We were on our way back to the hospital when I received a phone call. The man claimed to know who was behind the attack on our brothers. So we went to meet him in a parking garage. Next thing we know, we see a woman watching the hospital. When we tried to question her, she took off."

Nodding, Dean picked up the sanitized version of the story. "We chased her down here and what can I say…she got the drop on me. She wanted to shoot me. Red here-" he pointed at Sarah, "tossed some candy at her in an attempt to prevent her from shooting me. Unfortunately, the woman was, well, unbalanced." With a "swooshing" noise, he made a falling motion.

"The woman," interrupted the ME, "had some ID on her." The Medical Examiner shrugged at the puzzled looks being shot at her. "Hey, the body is gonna need some sponges to completely recover but her wallet was in her coat. And that was still intact. Anyone know one "Corrine Transom" or was she just a random nutcase?"

Pettit looked confused. "Wait. That was a file in Saba's office. She was an associate of…Holy crap, she was hooked up with that Hood guy. You know, the one who tried to murder the Thunderbirds several years ago?"

"Find a new bad guy?" Dean muttered, ignoring the glare the cops shot at him. Sarah only gave an amused smile.

Simpson spoke up. "I read a while back that the Hood had died in prison. And while the Cap was, um, talking to you, Pettit," the man looked abashed and everyone there would have _loved_ to know the story behind that "a message came across that a known associate of his may be on the loose over here."

"Well, she was on the loose over here. And," Dean snarked, "over there, and there and a bit over there as well."

Sarah shook her head, trying her best not to laugh. To her amusement, she noticed that Simpson was having the same problem. Pettit, however, had what Gordon referred to as a "Queen Victoria" look of "We are not amused". When Dean looked to say something more, Sarah decided to intervene before he got himself arrested. What the exact charge would be Sarah was unsure of. Could you be arrested for being an annoying dufus? _If that was the case, _she thought, _Gordy would be serving a life sentence._

"Marty, do you – or your partner – have any real questions for us? Because," Sarah continued when it looked like Pettit would say something, "I would think the statement, the security tape from the station camera and the fact that this was an international criminal with a prior history of violence while we are two citizens with clean records should be more than sufficient. And if you have any further questions, it may be in the best interest of all concerned for you to use that card and call our lawyers."

Pettit's face had gone deep red with the anger he was desperately trying to contain. Opening his mouth repeatedly, the detective looked as if he wanted to say something. To give the man his due, they could see when he acknowledged that the deck had been firmly stacked against him and he couldn't win the hand. As Pettit turned to walk away, Dean felt the slightest twinge of resentment. His family had worked for years, sacrificing any sense of normalcy, bleeding, suffering, hell, _dying_ to protect others from the darkness most of them thought only existed in books or movies. But when Sarah Tracy stood between him and the law, suddenly people bent over backwards to accommodate her. Dean had come to realize that the Tracys would not abuse the power that came with the wealth and name. But it was still irritating that the family could insulate the Winchesters from the normal legal scrutiny that was so much a part of their lives.

"Dean," Sarah hissed, "C'mon, let's go."

Dean and Sarah turned to leave when Simpson reached out and grabbed Sarah's arm. "Woody, I know you. You wouldn't do anything illegal. But this whole situation…Well, frankly, this whole situation is…weird."

Sarah shrugged. "You should have seen it from our perspective."

Simpson dropped his hand and looked at her intently. "Do I really wanna know what has been going on?"

Dean cocked an eyebrow and held the door open for Sarah to go through. "Y'know, Dude…I really don't think you want to."

The door shut closed behind the pair as they hurried out of the subway station. Detective Simpson sighed as the sound echoed through the cavernous area. "No, I don't think I do want to."

* * *

In a room down the hall from where they had been previously, Alan watched groggily as a new nurse hooked up the new IV. He had some additional stitches and two broken fingers to add to his previous list of injuries. Looking at the bound fingers, Alan idly wondered how he had broken the digits. Probably when they were thrown from their beds, but in all honesty, he wasn't certain. The stitches were on his leg and from the glass shards pulled from the wound before it was stitched back up, they were fairly certain that the broken window was the cause of that injury.

Liz was running the scene like a drill sergeant. He had learned from the stream of chatter she had with Bobby that she was an Air Force brat, whose parents had retired near Offutt AFB, Nebraska when she was eight. The youngest of six children, Liz was the only one who had not joined the service. _This, _she had wryly explained_, was why I moved half-way across the country from my parents. It was_ _harder for them to nag me about it long distance. And now my nieces and nephews are donning Air Force blues. So of course, my parents now snipe about my lack of progeny. As if thirteen grandkids aren't enough…_

Sam caught Alan's eye and the pair shared a smile, relieved that the whole mess was finally over. After a careful exam, both of them were given medication that was now making them drowsy. Frankly, Sam couldn't wait to go to sleep. Watching Bobby making eyes at Liz was…well, frankly, it was as bad as when he had realized Dad was no monk…

It hit Sam hard at that moment and he studied Bobby with more knowing eyes. Bobby may not be his father by blood, but the love was there. And if a relationship with the attractive nurse brought some joy into the older hunter's life, Sam was all for it.

And then he tried to assure himself that it was the meds causing the nausea.

Alan chuckled lightly. At Sam's puzzled look, he said softly, "Yeah, I know how you feel. I was fifteen when I realized a few home truths about my dad and a family friend. John pretty much confirmed it when he said dad never has a hotel room when he heads to London. I know he loved my mom and that will never change. I'm glad he has someone…well, someone special." Rolling his eyes, he leaned back into the pillow. "Of course, the first time I realized that they…kept each other _busy_, I had a hard time making conversation with either of them for a while. Bet you end up with the same problem." Chuckling once more, Alan drifted off to sleep, leaving Sam wishing desperately that the younger man hadn't left him with _that _mental image.

He would never sleep now.

* * *

Cheryl Bugsbee stormed out of the hospital, heading towards the employee parking area. _Two weeks! Suspended for two weeks. I should sue, I should go to the papers, I should..._

_Look for a job elsewhere._

The voice seemed to come from nowhere and the smell of lavender was overwhelming. The nurse felt a presence behind her and turned slowly. Her eyes went wide when she saw a translucent blonde woman standing behind her. _Your stupidity, ignorance and intolerance let that monster almost kill my son. _Lucy glided slightly closer to the woman. _I would love to expose you to the same risk you put my baby to. _

Cheryl closed her eyes. _It's not real, there is no such thing as ghosts, no, no, no... _Opening her eyes, Lucy was now right in her face.

_Boo._

Lucy smiled as the woman ran screaming towards her vehicle. As the car peeled out of the parking lot, the spirit nodded in satisfaction. She would bet anything that the nurse spent her suspension looking for a new job...or moving to a new state.

* * *

Dean and Sarah ran into Mass General, ignoring the seemingly sea of law enforcement personnel, making it all the way to the third floor before being stopped by a police officer. "Sorry, folks, but this area is being secured. You can't…"

"Woody!"

At the sound of Dr. Brackett's voice, Sarah pushed past the uniformed officer. "Doc. Alan, Sam…are they…I mean…"

The physician stood up shakily, still holding an ice pack to his head. "They're both alright. Some new bumps and bruises but they should be OK. And your uncle," he addressed Dean who had by now joined them, "is fine as well. Apparently, someone set off some kind of explosive device and then tried to get to the boys. From what the authorities can tell, he shot out a window in the boys' room and then when security was able to get through to the floor, he jumped out. The man was lucky, there is only a small ledge there; otherwise, it is three stories up and a brick sidewalk below."

"Any idea what you plan to do now, Mrs. Tracy?" Sarah and Dean both stifled a groan at the sound of Detective Pettit's voice. "I mean, with the suspect not apprehended, your brother-in-law is still in danger."

"I doubt that," Dean said before he mentally bit his tongue.

Detective Simpson had caught up with his partner and he looked puzzled. "Is there something you are not telling us, Mr. Winchester?"

Dean was always the better scammer of the brothers, so he took a flyer. "Well, we – my brother and I, that is – have suspected that everything else that happened to Alan was done by some kind of hired guns. With the new info, that that Train Wreck chick, was an escaped criminal, I'll bet ya anything that it was her that was behind the attempts on Alan."

"Go on," Simpson looked intrigued while Pettit looked annoyed. Sarah looked amused but tried to hide it.

"So we have one of two maybes. Either it was a series of situations set to throw Alan – who can usually take care of himself – off his game, so that he could be abducted for ransom or some scenario of protecting Alan from the attacks."

"Some form of extortion or other, right?" Simpson asked. Dean nodded while Sarah unobtrusively began to text Kate from her pocket. Within a few hours, all the info needed to support Dean's "theory" would be found in a drawer in the condo. She knew the police were planning a more thorough search of the property in the morning – one perk of being the owner – and they had already moved much of the paperwork from the hidden room into more obvious, yet still hidden, places.

"We'll look into it," Pettit said. He glared at Dean – who was rather used to it by now – and then turned the look on Sarah. "Mrs. Tracy, do you have anything you would like to add to this? Or would you like to just keep hanging out with criminal elements and interfering with an official investigation?"

Sarah did her best to channel Kate at that moment. "Listen Petty-boy. Dean's record is clean, you ran it yourself. And I was merely trying to protect Alan, same as Dean was trying to protect Sam. So you had best watch your trap, before I slap a defamation of character charge on you. The bad guy is dead, case closed. Now if nobody minds, can I have someone check where the psycho bitch who was the real criminal and not just the one in your twisted little mind shot me?"

"What the hell is going on?" Liz yelled down the hall. Sarah pulled off her dark coat, the blood on the sleeve of her pale blue cotton top now obvious. "Oh, God…Woody." She ran to her friend. "Oh, hon…" Liz glared at Pettit. "What are you thinking, you idiot? She needs to be examined, not harassed. Why don't you go direct traffic? Or better yet – play in it." Putting a gentle arm around Sarah's shoulder, she pulled Sarah down the hall. "I'll check it in the boys' room so that you can be assured that they are gonna be fine. Doctor Brackett – they are waiting for you in the ER, Dr. McCoy is waiting to check on you and you know she hates to be kept waiting. Dean, get to the room and get Sam to relax, he needs to sleep. Maggie, get me supplies to treat a minor GSR, then head down to Employee Health to get an all-clear. And Detective Simpson? Get that idiot out of my sight. Because any injuries I inflect, I don't repair."

As everyone scurried to do Liz's bidding, Pettit glared at his partner. "And why didn't you say anything? You just let her talk to me like that?"

Simpson shook his head and grinned. "Pettit, when you have been here a bit longer, you will know…You don't piss off certain people. And Liz Naylor is one of those people."

* * *

Sam blinked, trying not to fall asleep. He knew that Dean had succeeded in destroying whatever it was that was keeping the Hood – man, that is a worse name than Azazel (although not as bad as Uriel, which sounded a bit too much like urinal) – bound to their reality. But until he saw his brother with his own eyes, until he knew Dean was alright, Sam felt as if he couldn't relax.

Bobby came over and sat on Sam's bed, brushing hair from the younger man's face, much as he had when he was a boy. "You'll never become like him." His heart almost broke at the soulful eyes looking up at him. "Sam, yes, you have powers like the Hood. But you could never be like him. There is something wrong in people like him, something twisted and sick. You-will-not-be-like-that." Clenching Sam's hands in his, the two sat for a moment, Bobby praying that Sam was really listening to him…And Sam praying that Bobby was right.

"Sammy! Good to see you all bright and shiny." Dean paused a few feet from his brother's bed. "Well, awake at least."

Sam's face twisted as though he had just eaten something sour. Deciding to ignore his brother's banter, Sam relaxed, confident once more that with Dean there, everything would be alright. "So, I take it you got the bad guy? Nice little salt-and-burn?"

Dean stared at his brother wide-eyed, gesturing to Liz. "Dude!" He hissed only to stop as Sam chuckled drowsily.

"First, Liz knows about hunters. Seems old Daniel Elkins saved her from some vamps years ago. Second, she was here during the spirit's attack. Finally, apparently teaching someone how to handle ghosts is _someone's_ idea of romantic small talk." Sam rolled his eyes and gestured his hand at Bobby, who sat there with a "cat that ate the canary – and the goldfish" look on his face.

His head twisting, trying to look over at Alan's bed, where Liz was patching up Sarah's arm, even as Sarah was fussing over her brother-in-law, before swinging back to stare at Bobby. Finally, he nudged his baby brother over and lay down next to him. "Sam, it must be another sign of the Apocalypse. We are both here and yet the hot woman falls for Bobby." Putting an arm around his brother's shoulder, he let Sam use him as a pillow, happy to feel Sam relax. Whispering to his brother, "But I learned something cool. Something even my genius kid brother could never guess in a million years."

"The Tracys are International Rescue."

Dean tensed and stared down at Sam before looking at Bobby. Seeing the grins on both men's faces, his mouth turned down and he sighed. One of these days, he was gonna get a jump on the bookworms, he swore…Feeling Sam relax further, Dean smiled slightly at the sight of his maybe-grownup but always baby brother snoring softly against his chest.

But not today. And as the sun began to rise in the Boston sky, Dean allowed himself to relax, joining his brother in sleep.

* * *

As the clean-up on the floor continued (luckily, there were only the half-dozen security rooms and a multitude of executive offices), everyone was careful to avoid the one occupied room. Liz Naylor had made it clear that all any of the occupants required was peace and quiet. She had procured cots to allow Sarah and Dean to rest and swapped out for a new sleeper-lounger for Bobby. Tired herself, Liz maintained a watch over the other five. Checking the younger people first, she made notes on Alan and Sam, before tugging up blankets on Sarah and Dean. The nurse began to move back towards Dean when the older brother began to toss and moan in his sleep. She looked over with concern, wondering if the events had been too stressful and Dean needed a sedative, when Sam reached out a hand in his sleep, putting his hand on his brother's arm. Liz smiled as Dean calmed at the touch. Placing her data pad on a low table, she left to place orders for breakfast. Liz would bet anything she was going to have some hungry people on her hands soon.

* * *

Jeff Tracy yawned as he stumbled through the villa. Too many sleepless nights could not be made up in five hours. The fingers of dawn was just lighting up the island. Coffee…oh, some coffee sounded so good right now. Onaha would still be sleeping, so he would just get a pot started and then head for his office. Once he had some caffeine in his system, Jeff would contact the hospital and see how Alan was doing. Maybe he should head out that way…

"Good morning, Mr. Tracy." Jeff clutched his chest in shock. Kyrano merely smiled enigmatically, several rubber boxes marked "Holiday Decorations", in the Oriental man's hands. "Onaha has coffee on. She can bring it to you either on the lanai or to your office. However, Kate is already at the breakfast table."

Smiling, Jeff moved to join his daughter-in-law for coffee. Pausing, he turned back to his loyal employee, saying, "You know, I think Alan and Tin-Tin are going to want to get married soon."

Placing down the boxes, Kyrano nodded as he began to open the top container. Pulling out a string of lights, he began to spread them out to examine the strand. "Yes, Alan spoke with me during the Thanksgiving Break. He wanted to ask for my blessings to marry my daughter. You have raised a fine young man, Mr. Tracy. He has great respect for traditions and his elders. I will be honored to be able to call him son, since Onaha and I have always viewed him as such."

Jeff nodded and gave a small smile. He began to leave the room, calling over his shoulder, "Hey, when the kids get married, will you finally call me Jeff?"

"Of course not, Mr. Tracy." Jeff chuckled as the comment followed him out to the patio. He sobered quickly at the sight of Kate tapping a pen to a pad of paper, sipping a cup of coffee before pouring another from a half-empty pot.

"I think you have been living on this island too long." Kate looked up at as her father-in-law walked towards her. At the confused look on her face, Jeff smiled. "You drink coffee like me and sleep as little as Scott."

Kate shook her head, adding cream and sugar before pouring a cup for Jeff. "Actually, I got the bad coffee habit from my father. And I will sleep better when I can see Alan again."

"You're not the only one," Jeff said grimly as he sat down at the table. "Where is Scott?"

"He fell asleep in DJ's room, after Jason fell asleep trying to get DJ to go to sleep." Kate shrugged. "We may not be telling the kids everything, but they know something is wrong."

"Children are far wiser and more sensitive than people give them credit for." Onaha came out to the lanai, carrying a tray with muffins and fresh fruit. Kyrano approached behind her, nodding.

"Kate, what did you want to talk to me about?" Jeff asked as he picked up a cranberry walnut muffin, cracking it open to spread butter on it.

Kate looked grim. "Onaha, Kyrano, you may want to stay for this." The couple looked confused, but stayed behind. "Dad, Sarah called. With Dean Winchester's help, they found out who is behind the attacks on Alan. Apparently, Transom had escaped from prison. But before she pulled a very masterful disappearing act, she kept a part of the Hood with her." Trying to ignore Kyrano's horrified look, Kate continued. "She used that part of him to pull off some kind of mystical mumbo-jumbo. Dad, it's the Hood again. He's been the one after Alan all this time."

Tears clogging his throat, Kyrano beseeched his employer, "Mr. Tracy, I…"

Jeff interrupted. "No Kyrano. I told you years ago, you are not responsible for the actions of the Hood."

"But he is my family."

"No," Jeff shook his head. "You are our family."

Kyrano straightened, giving a small smile and a nod. Abruptly, he turned back towards the house, muttering about "too much to do and not enough time." Onaha likewise excused herself, saying that the holiday baking needed done. Kate smiled as she squeezed her father-in-law's hand. "Nice touch, Dad. OK, so assuming that Dean and Sarah have everything wrapped up, Alan is still in no shape to stay alone in Boston. And school was due out in three days. Three of his professors have agreed to let him do make-up exams once he is medically cleared and his computer engineering agreed that the work he did as part of the design team for Tracy Aeronautics on the remote control air drone was more than proof that he had a firm grasp of real-world applications of classroom theory."

"So maybe I should head out to Boston. I mean," Jeff proposed, "someone should be keeping an eye on Alan during the flight back."

Kate shook her head and smiled. "Way ahead of you, Dad. I already made the arrangements. None of us have to leave."

Jeff raised an eyebrow but Kate merely smiled cheerfully. "In the meanwhile, the boys and I were talking last night. We were thinking, that considering the task was more challenging than we thought, that we might want to add a small bonus. Dad, the Winchesters do an impossible job for no pays and rare thanks. They deserve a reward."

"Clearing their records and giving them a legitimate source of income isn't enough?"

Cocking her head to one side, Kate sighed. "They made sure we didn't lose Alan. Because of them, Alan is coming home for Christmas. What price can you put on that?"

His eyes cast out on images only he could see, Jeff smiled. In his mind's eye, he could see a young Alan playing by the pool or an older Alan studying in a shaded chair. Casting his mind back further, Jeff could have sworn he felt the weight of a seven and a half pound baby being placed in his arms once more. The bright blue eyes popped open and stared up at his father with so much trust and adoration, and once more Jeff Tracy fell in love. Remembering the fear he felt at the times he thought he would lose Alan, Jeff nodded and patted Kate's arm.

"There is no price. OK, Kate. Go ahead with the bonus."

"Thanks Dad," Kate smiled as she stood up, pouring a cup of coffee to bring to her husband. "Lady P will take care of the transportation details. She feels guilty for not keeping an eye on Transom after the Hood's death and wants to help."

Jeff shook his head once more as Kate walked away. _Atta-girl._

* * *

It took a great deal of sweet-talk and persuasion, but Dr. Brackett had finally agreed to sign _both _Sam and Alan out of the hospital that afternoon. While Sarah had been given the fifth degree by the anxious Tracys back on the Island, Sam and Alan had been feed and given a final check-up. Liz – technically off the clock – had taken Dean and Bobby across the street to a small diner for some "non-hospital food". As they walked back into the room, Dean was talking to Bobby.

"OK, I guess we can stay at the condo for a few days, just until Sammy can travel. The doc said he needs to rest for a few days and I still need the car repaired. Hell, I need to find out where they took my baby!"

Sarah breezed in at that moment. "Actually, Dean, your car is currently in route to Connecticut." At the appalled look on Dean's face, Sarah held up a hand. "One of the best classic car restorers in the country has a shop there. Ever hear of Johnny DeSoto?" Mentioning the classic car restorer who had the only Discovery Channel show that Dean would watch made the man's jaw drop. "He is going to repair the damage caused by Saba being made into scumbag pancake as well as anything else he can find, plus tune the engine, etc, etc. He will then put her on another flat-bed and ship her – covered, of course – to Singer Salvage of South Dakota."

"Why not bring her back here to us?" Sam asked. Sarah merely smiled. Any further questions were halted when Dr. Brackett entered the room.

"OK, as long as you will make sure Sam rests for a few days he should be OK to go. And Sarah, I am only releasing Alan to go home because your family has the infirmary and your sister-in-law is a doctor." He raised his eyebrows at the suddenly angelic look Sarah had on her face. Deciding that he was discovering there may be things about anyone named Tracy that he never wanted to know, Dr. Brackett continued on. "But if you are flying back, someone should be keeping an eye on Alan."

"I believe," a quiet voice broke in, "that is my job." An attractive Asian girl entered the room with a lean and lanky young man with glasses just behind her. Alan's face lit up at the sight of them.

"Tin! Fermat! I was supposed to pick you two up in California before going home for Christmas." Alan kissed his fiancée and bumped fists with his best friend.

"W-well," Fermat stuttered, "my dad c-called to say wh-what was h-happening and we d-decided to come here and m-make sh-sure you were f-f-f-f-f _OK._"

"Was it my uncle again?" Tin-Tin asked Sarah quietly.

Sarah nodded. "Yes, but he is gone for good now."

Dr. Brackett looked at the room's occupants, shook his head and said, "But, I thought…Never mind, I don't want to know. I should have been off duty ages ago. Liz, get some rest. Alan, Sam…try not to come back here. Our insurance underwriters can't take it." The doctor quickly left the room as they prepared to leave.

Soon, the group found themselves at a private airstrip just outside the city. Dean looked at the small, sleek jet and while he admired the workmanship, he shook his head.

"Uh, folks, while we appreciate the thought, there is no way you will be getting me in that plane."

Sarah smiled once more. "Don't worry Dean. We have arranged for some friends of ours to give you a ride."

Just then a man in a chauffer's uniform approached. "'Appy 'oliday, folks! Master Alan, m'lady and I were most distressed to 'ear of your injuries. Once we take these fine folk to their destination, let your father know we are still planning on visiting for Christmas, you hear?"

"Sure thing, Nosey," Alan responded cheerfully.

Giving a brief glower before ruffling the younger man's hair much as he had when Alan was a boy, Aloysius "Nosey" Parker, merely smiled. "Are these your bags, sirs?"

When Sam, Dean and Bobby merely stared, Sarah nodded. Parker picked up the duffle bags and hauled them away. Sarah spoke up. "The rest of your "gear" is headed for South Dakota and will be waiting in Bobby's house. Enjoy your trip." She gave Sam and Bobby quick hugs before standing in front of Dean, "I think, Scarecrow, I will miss you most of all." Hugging the man and giving a peck on the cheek, she smiled through misty eyes. "Sorry, figured you would appreciate the Kansas reference. Now," she stepped back as Tin-Tin and Fermat helped Alan onto the small jet, "I can't begin to thank you enough. Kate said she will send the paperwork regarding the house to Bobby's house via a courier after the holidays. And Dad said to tell you consider the Tracys in your debt. You have an official marker you can call in. Try to make it a good one." Smiling once more, she boarded the jet and soon it was airborne.

When the plane became a speck on the horizon, Sam looked over at Dean and Bobby. "OK, they are gone and safe, now what do we do?"

As if in answer to his question, the sound of a motor drew their attention. All three men's jaws dropped as a bright pink limo pulled up. Parker stepped out and opened the rear door. A beautiful blonde, dressed in a pink fur coat, with matching hat, leaned out. "Gentlemen, Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, at you service. The Tracys are dear friends of mine and Parker and I," she gestured to the man holding the door, "have been asked to transport you to your destination." Sam quickly got into the warm and luxurious car but Dean stared in shock.

"Lady – what did you do to this poor car? It's pink!"

Parker rolled his eyes, looked over at Bobby and the two older men nodded in understanding. Each grabbed Dean by an arm and tossed him into the back, avoiding Lady P and Sam. As Bobby climbed in, Parker muttered, "As bad as any of the lads when they saw FAB-1." Parker then reclaimed his position behind the wheel.

The car was well outside the city, driving along a stretch of highway with a stunning view of the Atlantic in December, when Sam finally spoke. "While we appreciate the ride, Lady Penelope, you aren't going to drive us all the ways to South Dakota are you?"

Lady Penelope smiled. "Why no. First, you are not going to be driven that far, our destination is not South Dakota. The Tracys felt you needed a bit of a holiday. So you will be spending Christmas at Casa de Paridiso, a lovely resort on the Mexican Riviera. The Tracys have secured a three bedroom suite, arranged for an open tab at the hotel. You can have room service or eat in one of the five restaurants at the resort. Oh, and Dean?" Ignoring the glower that was such a contrast to the grins on Bobby and Sam's faces, Lady P addressed him, "Gordon said to add that you have a large balcony, he made sure that binoculars will be available, and the resort's private beach is clothing optional. Oh, and that the Miss Mexico pageant was being held at the resort."

"And the second?" Bobby asked. "You said first, what is the second thing?"

Lady Penelope merely smiled once more. "Parker, I believe we are far enough from the city now."

"Yes, m'lady." Bobby and Sam held Dean back when he would have freaked as the pink car – offensive enough in Dean's eyes – began to fly.

* * *

Alan leaned back on his bed in the infirmary. Sarah had left with Virgil to go pick up John, Emily and baby Keith from Auckland. Even down in the sick bay, he could smell the wonderful scents of Onaha's cooking and hear the excitement of the children (he included Gordon in that) as they dashed about "helping" with the holiday preparations. Jeff smiled down at his youngest son and sat on the edge of the bed. "Just one night in here, Alan, and then you should be alright in your own room, and of course, on a couch other times."

"So, Sarah said that the Winchesters are going to spend five days at a Mexican resort for the holiday?"

Jeff nodded, pleased with what his children had come up with. "Yes. It's all been arranged. A Christmas tree, complete with presents, will be in the room. Some pretty practical, like some new jeans and shirts, plus steel toe boots and some winter gear. Some not so practical, like some music for Dean – and it wasn't easy to get a hold of cassette tapes – and books for Sam. It doesn't sound like they have had many good holidays. I think it really pleased the other kids to try and arrange all that for them."

Alan nodded, the medication making him sleepy once more. "Yeah. I just…well, I think that is great, Dad. I owe them a lot. I…I hope they like it. And…" he sighed as he drifted off, "I hope you like your gift, too." Alan fell asleep, anxious to see the look on his father's face as he saw the first edition copy of Alan's first novel."

Watching his baby boy sleep, Jeff brushed back his son's hair from his eyes. "I already have my gift, Alan. All of my children are safe and will be with me for Christmas. What more could I ask for?"

Lucy Tracy hovered near by, smiling as her spouse kept a careful watch nearby. Her future daughter-in-law, Tin-Tin, was shuttling the Hackenbackers up to Thunderbird Five while the rest of the Island residents prepared for the holiday on Earth. Unlike many confused or angry spirits, Lucy had long ago settled into a role of protector for her family. She could not interact much, but an occasional whisper or nudge had served her family well through the years. Some day she would not be needed. Some day she could accept her eternal rest. But – she smiled, watching the young man both she and Jeff still saw as their baby – that day would not come for years. Lucy wondered at times how her family could be so blessed. Perhaps, it was fate's own version of payment in kind. They had suffered in ways that many would have turned bitter. Instead, the Tracys sought to make the world a better place, through both International Rescue and as themselves. In so many ways, the Tracys were as much heroes as the Thunderbirds.

But for now, they were just a family doing what so many others did at this time of year. Thinking of the Winchesters, Lucy smiled and hoped that the brothers and their "uncle" were enjoying themselves. She knew what a struggle faced them, much as she knew all the challenges that would face her own family. Lucy prayed that they would all survive what was to come. Yet for now? Now they would gather as families, eat, drink, laugh…For now, they would know peace.

The greatest gifts for them were peace and love. The peace would be fleeting. But the love? The love would give them the strength to go on. "_Thunderbirds are go_."

Lucy smiled at her loves and faded once more, the scent of lavender lingering in the air for a moment before vanishing.

Alan stirred in his sleep and Jeff put out a comforting hand, smiling as his little boy once more drifted off. For now, all was right with his world. As the strain of recent days caught up with him, Jeff nodded off. His family was intact and together. The question of who would rescue the rescuers had been answered once more. And he could only hope that the unlikely heroes were enjoying themselves. But as sleep claimed him, Jeff still speculated about the grin on Gordon's face when he announced which resort he had selected. Jeff should wonder about that grin. But he had learned long ago to never question that look. It really wasn't good for his blood pressure.

And in Mexico, three weary hunters – a ragged little family – dozed on a large, plush couch as a soft breeze came in through the open patio doors. As "Scrooged" played on the big screen TV – Bill Murray sounding funnier than usual in a dubbed Spanish voice – an angel watched with a small smile. Castiel knew how much more work the Winchesters had to do. Too many seals had already been broken. But, he mused, even Lucifer should have to wait until after the celebration of the Birth…Waving his hand, he gestured towards the tree before fading from sight. Bobby stirred for a moment, opening his eyes and looking at the Christmas tree. He could have sworn there was a star at the top a moment ago. But as he drifted back off to sleep, Bobby shrugged. Nope, no one else was here, salt lines were intact and his boys were still asleep.

So that angel must have always been there.

* * *

_**A/N - OK, so that ends that story. The overwhelming majority seem to want a sequel, so the ideas I tossed around with Sammygirl1963 will happen (especially the follwing - a certain Tracy's injury, a Pittsburgh Steelers Jersey and a certain scene at Singer Salvage). Thanks to everyone who followed. The sequel will be started in a few weeks (I need to catch up on housework). Until then take care and GO STEELERS!!! (That was for you, Jean!!!)**_

**_Laters! - CC_**


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